


A Wish the Heart Makes

by Lhugy_for_short, Lynxrider



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cinderella Elements, Creepy landlord, Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Modern Fairy Tale AU, Sexting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats with guns, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynxrider/pseuds/Lynxrider
Summary: Prompto has been living at a home for wayward teens ever since he aged out of the orphanage. The rent he pays to the owner, Ardyn Izunia, is steep, and in order to make his payments he's picked up a part-time job at a photo studio. There, he meets Gladio, a member of the royal Crownsguard and a total dreamboat. Their new blossoming relationship requires a lot of stealthy lying - about his past, his living conditions, and the fact that his creepy landlord is known for finding "other ways" for residents to pay their dues. When it comes time for Prompto's first proper night out with Gladio at the king's fancy gala, he gets help (and a makeover) from his neighbor Aranea - but the romance can only last until curfew. If he's late, and Ardyn finds out he's fallen for someone out of his league, he'll be sure to put him back in his place.With gorgeous art by Lynxrider in Ch 9!
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64
Collections: Promptio Big Bang 2020





	1. All the Trials that Life Can Offer

**Author's Note:**

> My first submission for the Promptio Big Bang 2020 :D I've been working on this for a few months now, and I'm so excited to finally be able to share it! Lots of sweat and tears went into getting this story into its final form...so I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!

_ Beep, beep, beep. _ An incessant, tinny rhythm, hard to ignore even in the darkness of his room. Outside, the morning sun had yet to filter down between the dense city buildings. Its light was at least another hour away from reaching his window on the fourth floor. Everything was cast in shadow, from the thin curtains to the old carpet to the single sheet on an otherwise bare mattress, tucked around Prompto’s shoulders to shut out the mid-spring chill. 

He shivered, hugged it closer, and rolled over in his sleep.

Meanwhile, however, the beeping continued. Its source: an ancient sports watch laid out on the desk, the only piece of currently unoccupied furniture in the room. Despite Prompto’s efforts to latch back onto some fleeting dream he’d been having about chocobos performing a musical, the alarm insisted on being heard. 

Finally, heaving a sigh of defeat, he rolled himself to the edge of the bed and stood, unbalanced, on his feet. “Alright, al- _ riiight _ .” A few groggy steps, some jabs to the right buttons on the face of the watch, and then glorious silence filled the room. 

Prompto rubbed at his eyes. “Morning already, huh?”

It certainly didn’t feel like a fresh, new day to him. Not after he’d stayed up late into the night sorting through photos from the week’s shoots at the studio where he worked. Cor Leonis, his boss and incidentally a long-time family friend of his father's, already had a lot on his plate with seasonal projects from companies running summer ads. Recently, their studio had even picked up a contract with the Citadel’s own Crownsguard for a series of recruitment posters. So much business meant Prompto, as the hired help, had to do everything he could to support Cor, and keep the place from getting overwhelmed. 

But as much as he loved his job, he did  _ not  _ love early mornings on only a handful of hours of sleep. Prompto stretched his arms up, groaned with each satisfying  _ pop _ along his spine, and shuffled into the cleanest pair of socks currently inhabiting the floor of his room. A quick jaunt down the hall, past doors still shut tight, brought him to the shared bathroom, where he brushed his teeth, washed his face (there was no hot water  _ again _ , go figure), and did his best to comb down his hair with a well-used bottle of gel. It wasn’t much, but he knew how to make due. 

On the way back, he was too busy readjusting his wrist bands to notice the steely gaze of the figure watching him from outside of his open door, arms folded and looming like a guardian. It wasn't until he nearly tripped right into her that he finally looked up in surprise. “…Nea?! A little warning, please!”

Though realistically a few inches shorter, Aranea Highwind always still seemed to tower over him. Especially now, as she straightened her back and smirked down the length of her nose. “Morning, early bird. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

"Anytime. I'm surprised you're up this early." 

She permitted him to pass, and followed him into his room without bothering to ask permission. Accustomed to it, Prompto ignored her in favor of the small pile of relatively clean clothes on the floor. “I've got work today. What's your excuse?”

A shrug, and she flipped on the overhead light. “Couldn’t sleep. It happens. You were up all night again, weren’t you?” 

“That obvious, huh?,” he sighed, tugging off his sleep shirt and replacing it with his favorite dark, sleeveless tee. “It’s a lot faster to go through the photos on the studio computer, but with just my camera here, it takes longer than I'm used to.”

Glancing up, he caught Aranea watching him again, a mix of sympathy and  _ I told you so _ written across her stern face. “And you’re  _ sure  _ this job isn’t too much for you?” 

“I’m sure,” Prompto replied with lightning speed. They’d had this discussion before, had talked about how far the studio was, and about how hard Prompto threw himself into the work. But while he had to get up early to take the bus across town, and often brought projects back with him to finish late into the night, he really did love it. Photography was his passion - the camera he used, still connected to its charger on his bed, was the only thing he had left of his real parents in the world. He went nowhere without it. And if he could somehow manage to turn that passion into a career, well. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do with his life. 

Plus, working for Cor was a hell of a lot better than the  _ alternatives.  _

From just inside the door, Aranea conceded with a shake of her head. “Fine, fine. But make sure you don’t push yourself, yeah? You know I hate it when you cry.” That remark - and anything Prompto could have said in defense - was cut short by something flying out of Aranea’s pocket and straight for Prompto’s lap. He caught it (just barely, and mostly on instinct) before it could hit him. An apple, he realized, staring for a long moment at it between his hands. 

When he looked up again, Aranea was already gone. 

* * *

Bag,  _ check _ . Bus pass _ , check. _ Camera,  _ double check.  _ A glance at his watch told him he still had ten minutes to make it downstairs to the stop. Perfect. He shut his door as quietly as he could behind him, dropped the key into his back pocket, and started down the hall toward the stairs. 

Unfortunately, if he’d thought he had a clear shot to the exit, his hopes were dashed when a door just ahead of him swung open into the hallway, and the very last person he might have hoped to meet stepped into his path. 

Ardyn Izunia. Benefactor, landlord, businessman. An enigma whose name was whispered around the Home in a mix of fear and awe. He was the type of man who, at least publicly, presented himself as a charming if eccentric philanthropist, using his name and money to help the struggling youth of Insomnia’s streets. Yet to those who knew the  _ real _ man behind the facade, his own motives meant he stood to profit from the desperate, impressionable individuals he brought in under his roof. 

Now, Prompto found himself face to face with the older man as, turning, Ardyn greeted him with a smile. 

“Ah, Argentum! How auspicious I should get to see your lovely face this morning. You seem to be in something of a hurry.”

Prompto swallowed, affecting a half-smile he didn’t really feel. “Y-yeah, um. I’ve got this new job, actually. Downtown, so….” 

“A job? Is that so? How  _ ambitious _ .” Ardyn stepped closer, oblivious to Prompto’s discomfort. He ran long fingers back through his dark, auburn hair, then brought them back down to scratch at a patch of stubble growing from his chin. “What line of work are you in exactly?” 

“Photography,” he answered. Then, adding quickly, “For, like, magazines and catalogs and stuff.” 

“Interesting. Yes, I can see how that might suit you.” The way yellow eyes raked over him, with no hint of subtlety, left Prompto once again shifting on his feet. He took the chance to look past Ardyn’s shoulder into the room beyond - and was chilled to see a young man, probably a few years younger than himself, sitting motionless at the edge of the bed. As Prompto watched, he pulled on a t-shirt with almost numb, mechanical movements, and then the sight was blocked from his view as Ardyn, remembering tact this time, discreetly closed the door. 

“You’d best be going along, then. I would hate for you to be late for this new position of yours,” he said, still smiling, and took a step to the side to allow Prompto to pass. “But, please remember that I’m always here to help. If it's money you're after, all you need do is ask.” 

“I, um. Y-yeah, thanks. Sir.” It took considerable effort to shake off the icy chill in his limbs, to step past the taller, older man knowing those eyes had yet to leave him, and make stiffly for the stairs at the end of the hall. He tried not to think about what Ardyn’s words had meant, what he was  _ really _ offering -- or about the boy he’d seen, haunted and half-naked in that dark room. Shutting it all out, he clutched his fingers tight around the camera hanging from a strap around his neck, and ran all the way outside.

* * *

A typical day at Lionheart Studios went something like this: arrive before eight, check the schedule for appointments, set up the studio, prep the lighting and the camera, and get ready for the first clients to arrive. 

In theory, it was a simple system, and somehow Cor himself managed to make it all look easy as greens. But for Prompto, who was still learning the ropes at only a few weeks on the job, there were intricacies that still eluded him. Work that took Cor only fifteen minutes took him thirty, and  _ then  _ he had to double check he hadn’t made any mistakes. 

Luckily, Cor was not only patient, but a good teacher, as well. Prompto supposed there was an element of pity in his getting the job in the first place. After all, Cor had known the Argentums before the accident in Gralea that had claimed their lives, and over the years he’d done what he could to support Prompto from afar. He was the closest thing Prompto had left to family, and he, in turn, was all Cor had, too. 

But Prompto also didn’t want to make him worry anymore than he already did. He didn’t, for example, tell him about the conditions of the building where he lived, or about his landlord who could give a boogie man the creeps. He also didn’t tell Cor about all the nights he stayed up working late. If he did, Cor would likely insist that he borrow the studio laptop, or would lend him the money to get his own. But that wouldn’t matter much if it got broken - or worse, stolen walking through the streets in the wrong part of town. 

So he kept focused on his tasks to keep his spirits up, and usually it worked like a charm. Nothing inspired Prompto quite like photography. It had been his passion since the first camera his parents had given him back in grade school. Though they’d always been busy, working long shifts at the lab, they’d said the pictures Prompto took would help keep them connected. So take them he did, photo after photo, anything and everything he could think of until his memory cards were full. The click of the shutter became as natural to him as breathing. 

Cor had seen his talent, and offered him the job at his studio on the spot. Sure, there was still a lot for him to learn, mostly about filters and functions beyond what his camera could do, but he dove into it with genuine love for the art. That, perhaps more than anything, was why he didn’t mind the bus ride, the late hours, the hard work. For him, it was a privilege to learn from a master like Cor Leonis. 

Of course, while he excelled at the studio work, he was somewhat less enthusiastic about front desk reception. It was easily his least favorite part of the job. But, as Cor always said, better Prompto than him.

The schedule on the computer showed they had three appointments for the day. A shoot in the morning for recruitment posters, requested by the Crownsguard. Probably a boring job, too many rules and not enough room for creative liberties, so Prompto scrolled on. In the afternoon, they had an appointment with two models for the Nox Fleuret clothing line, followed by a personal shoot for a pet owner. This one excited Prompto the most. Working with people was fine and all, but animals were so natural on camera. They didn't have to pose, or cover themselves in makeup or fake smiles. They were free to be  _ free,  _ which meant more work for the photographer, but ultimately resulted in truly beautiful photos every time. If he thought he could make a living off it, Prompto would open a studio exclusively for pets -  _ all  _ pets, big and small, furry or feathered. Even snakes, he laughed to himself, as long as he had a partner to do the handling. 

He allowed himself to get lost in this thought, as he had many times before, while he mindlessly scrolled through the studio's email inbox. There was no rush. The first client wasn't booked for another hour, so Prompto had plenty of time to--

The bell above the shop's entrance jingled. The front door swung open, and a very startled Prompto glanced over his shoulder just as a tall, broad, intimidatingly handsome man peered into the quiet office. 

He cast honey-brown eyes around at his surroundings before focusing in on Prompto. "Uh, hi there." 

"H-hi," he replied, in a voice two octaves too high. 

The man hesitated for a moment. He was still standing in the door, half hanging in the shop as if trying to decide if he was in the right place. "Yeah, uh." Still cautious, he cleared his throat. "The sign out front says Lionheart? I'm Gladio." 

"I'm Prompto," said Prompto, who had parkoured from panicked to unable to tear his eyes off the man's massive pecs barely contained within his top. He'd never seen a guy as built as him outside of action movies and the porn mags that sometimes circulated around the Home. Needless to say, the mental connection was instant, and Prompto was as breathless as if he'd just opened up a full page spread. 

The dreamboat took another glance at the shop name stenciled on the door, then grinned. "I'm…here for the ten o'clock?" 

Like a cold shower, reality crashed over Prompto and brought him back to the moment. An awkward laugh (the man at the door merely grinned wider) and he scrambled to recover his pride. "Right! Totally! Yes, um, we're Lionheart, as in, like, the studio. Which, you already figured out, of course, because…." 

"Sign," he confirmed, gesturing outside.

"Right, duh! I forget it's there, y'know, sometimes. Just walk right past it, in my own world. Ha ha, how weird, right?" 

"I guess." Letting the door close behind himself, the man stepped at last into the office. At his full height, he seemed even more massive compared to the small office. "I'm pretty early, huh. Do you mind if I wait here? This is getting me the morning off work." 

"Yeah. S-sure, have a seat anywhere. Um, Gladio, right?" 

"Yeah. You're…Prompto." 

His cheeks flushed, and he nodded. "Mm-hmm. Let me, um…see if we can fit you in a little early. " 

This time when the man grinned, Prompto felt it right down to his toes. 


	2. My Heart has Wings, and I Can Fly

"Have you ever done modeling before?" 

The question was largely meant to avoid awkward silence while Prompto tested the lighting on the set. Cor was busy preparing the backdrop - a subtle grey-black gradient that would draw the eye to the centerpiece - which left Gladio with nothing to do but watch them work. Clients usually didn't arrive until the grunt work was already done. It helped streamline the process for busy people with places to be. But having him around was actually, at least in Prompto's opinion, helpful for the shoot. 

For one, he could offer feedback on the design of the set up they were going to use. He was planning to wear his uniform (Crownsguard, it turned out, which sort of explained the muscles) and Cor had been able to compare the colors of the props against the dark shades of his costume. The lighting, too, could be adjusted early to save time between shots. 

For another, Prompto had more than enough chance to check him out from head to ass, and everything in between. 

Gladio was almost impossibly perfect. Every part of him (that the naked eye could see, anyway) was rock solid, toned and powerful in places Prompto didn't know there could be muscles. When he'd first removed his jacket, revealing his tank underneath to be as tight-fitting and sleeveless as the blond had hoped, the effect was jaw-dropping. His shoulders, his biceps, even peeking above the neckline of his shirt were lines and lines of dark ink.  _ Tattoos,  _ or at least one gigantic piece, covered his upper body in a way that was going to invade Prompto's dreams for weeks to come. 

It didn't help that, once Gladio caught him staring, he made sure to flex his arms every few minutes for good measure. 

So the modeling question, when he asked it, had been a combination of nerves and Prompto's one-track train of thought in that moment. Luckily, Gladio didn't seem to mind the attention. 

"For stuff like this? Nah." Leaving that answer intentionally vague, he continued in a lower voice. "Between you and me, no one really wanted to do these posters. I'm not camera shy, but having my face plastered all over the city? For  _ work? _ That's about as lame as it gets." 

Adjusting the zoom on his camera, Prompto laughed. "So how'd you get roped into it?" 

"My boss," Gladio smiled, and (very distractingly) ran his fingers back through his mane of dark hair. "He expects a lot out of me, and I can't exactly say no to him." 

Prompto nodded. In his experience, power and money made people dangerous. Ardyn, for example, who used his position to - often literally - take what he wanted. "I see. He sounds like a real asshole. Sorry you have to deal with him."

Rich brown eyes studied him for a moment, before Gladio, smiling, said: "He's my dad." 

Oh. 

Of  _ course _ . 

_ Great first impression, _ Prompto cringed inwardly.  _ Meet the guy of your dreams, and immediately insult his family. _ "D-did I say asshole?" he flashed a sheepish grin. "I, uh, meant 'totally awesome dude with super hot genes.'" 

"Hot genes, huh?" There was no trace of insult on Gladio’s expression, only amusement as he let his gaze wander over Prompto, about as subtle as a dualhorn in a department store. "I'll take that as a compliment. And don't worry, my dad isn't all bad. He's brought me up to be pretty open minded." 

He could feel it, that flare of heat to his face, the way his freckles must have blared against his traitorously pink cheeks. He'd given up pretending to mess around with the camera now and was staring at Gladio, eyes blinking in time with his thudding heartbeat, at the way those too-perfect lips curved in a smirk. He was, perhaps for the first time ever, happy for Cor's sudden - and timely - interruption. 

"Hope Clarus also raised you to hold a sword, because that's what you'll be doing for this shoot. Are you ready, Gladio?" Face stern but with a kind familiarity, Cor patted him on the shoulder. "Good to see you again, by the way." 

"It's been a long time, Marshal. How's the civilian life treating you?" 

"Can't complain," Cor, who Prompto had nearly forgotten was once a member of the royal guard himself, gestured around the studio. "I like to think I handle a camera at least as well as a blade, maybe better." 

"I'm in good hands, then." Prompto didn't miss the side glance Gladio cast in his direction. "So does this mean you're ready for me?" 

"Prom?" At the cue from Cor, he nodded quickly. 

"Yep! All ready to go." 

The first shot they got was a simple one: Gladio, looking fierce in his full Crownsguard regalia, posing in the center of an empty frame. Though he was directed to look out past the camera, Prompto (poised behind it) had a great view of his expression. Proud, determined, mouth set in a hard line. It was readily apparent why he'd been chosen as the model for these. 

All too soon, Cor was shuffling them into the next set. In this one, Gladio used a prop sword - large and bulky, but somehow he made that look good, too. He posed with it planted at his feet, then thrown over his shoulder to accentuate his strength (not that Prompto, for one, wasn't already convinced), and lastly in a pose that suggested the action of mid-battle. 

For the third and final set, Cor moved them into a more moody theme. He had Gladio remove his jacket, and eventually his filigreed uniform tee underneath as well. His tattoos drank in the light, so Prompto, on instinct, adjusted the contrast before jumping into shot after shot after shot. He moved close up, then fell back. Tracked around to a different angle, using Gladio's naturally attractive features to guide his lens. It was easy, almost too easy, to get lost in the scenery, so that by the time Cor called the end of the shoot Prompto had more than a hundred pictures. 

He was still pouring over them when Gladio returned from the changing rooms and met him once more in the front office. 

"Get any good ones?" he asked jokingly, sliding up to the counter where Prompto was engrossed in his screen. 

The blond nodded. "You bet. It'll take a while to pick out the best ones from all these. Do you want to see?" 

Leaning over the counter a little more than was necessary, Gladio hummed as he watched Prompto flip through a portion of the photos. "Hm, not bad. I don't know much about techniques, but I do know a flattering pic when I see one. You're good." 

"Thanks," Prompto smiled. "I'm lucky I had such an easy model to work with. I won't have to do many touch ups at all." 

"I know a flatterer when I see one, too." Again, Gladio took his time examining Prompto, much closer now so the interest in his eyes was harder to ignore. "When should I come back to pick these up?" 

"Oh, um. Friday? They should be ready by then, and if you like them, we can go ahead and make the prints that day." 

He reluctantly slid back across the desk as he patted his palm against it. "Friday, you got it, Prompto. It's a date." 

"U-um, y-yeah. Ha ha. Then, um." 

"See you Friday." 

"S-see you! Friday! Gladio." 

With a grin, and another, final pat to the countertop, Gladio side-stepped his way to the door. His eyes never left Prompto, who was practically burning up and bright red under their gaze. He gave a casual salute, then turned to head back out on the street. 

Prompto, as if released from a spell, sank down against the hardwood and sighed the most dreamy sigh of his life. 


	3. I'll Touch Every Star in the Sky

He was still up working when he heard the familiar rap of knuckles against his doorframe. Prompto didn't need to glance over to know who was coming by so late at night, but he did anyway.

"Hey, Nea." 

"You leave the door open just for me, buttercup?" There was a tired smile in the corners of her dark lips. Taking the greeting as the invitation that it was, she sauntered into the room and took a seat on the edge of Prompto's desk. 

He scoffed at his camera between his hands. "It was hot in here, but sure, if that floats your boat." 

"You know it does." For a long moment, Aranea said nothing. Her position afforded her a clear view of Prompto's screen, where she could very easily make out the shape of bulging muscles, dark lines of ink on bronzed skin, and a sharp, rugged jawline. And she smirked deliciously. "Am I…interrupting something? You and Mr. Eos there need some  _ alone time _ ?" 

"What?" Realization hit him, and Prompto's freckles popped against the sudden flush of color to his cheeks. "N-no! This isn't…! It's work,  _ work!"  _

"Uh huh. You want me to believe a guy like that walked into  _ your  _ shop and you  _ didn't _ bring him home?" 

"Nea! What are you trying to say?" He narrowed his blue eyes, but the effect was more of a pout than a glare. "He's just a client. I'm trying to get a head start on these photos. For Cor." 

" _ Mmhmm."  _

Flustered, he powered off the screen and set the camera down on the bed. Not too far, of course. Neither out of sight nor mind, though Aranea didn't have to know that. "Is there something you wanted, or…?" 

"Just came to check in on you, buttercup. Heard you had a run in with you-know-who this morning." 

_ Ardyn.  _ She didn't need to say it, like Prompto didn't need to ask. The reputation of the man who owned their building - and, in a way, their lives - preceded him. "Ah. Yeah, that. It was no big deal. I didn't stick around long enough." 

Her grimace was telling. "That man's never a pleasant experience. Keep your distance, 'kay? I can't always be here to look after you, y'know."

Prompto considered her words. As long as he'd been at the Somnus Memorial Home For Wayward Youths, Aranea had been with him. Like the sister, the family, he'd never really had, she'd always watched his back and kept him out of trouble as best she could. It was strange, he thought, that he knew as little about her as he did. Like many of those who lived in the Home, her private life was something she never talked about. Where she went during the day, how she earned her money. Prompto had only ever been able to speculate on the line of work Aranea favored. 

He recalled, on more than one occasion, the way she'd shoved bandaged knuckles deep into her pockets, and thought he might have some ideas. 

"Well, then, kid." Blowing a stray lock of silver bangs out of her face, Aranea hopped off the desk and stretched her arms above her head. "I'll leave you to it. Time for my beauty sleep, not that I need it." 

Another scoff, which earned him a swat to the back of the head. 

"Don't stay up too late with your fantasy boytoy," she teased. Prompto was too slow; his pillow hit the door just as Aranea closed it behind her, and thumped uselessly to the floor next to his bag. 

_ Sigh.  _ She meant well. And Prompto couldn't exactly say she was wrong. All day, even through the other shoots at the studio, his mind had been set on nothing but Gladio. That smile, those sculpted arms, the color of his eyes when he'd leaned over the counter. 

His  _ voice.  _

Prompto worried his bottom lip as he went for the camera again. Gladio wouldn't be back until Friday to pick up the pictures, which gave him plenty of time to sort through and enhance the best ones from the set. And yet… he still found himself staring into the screen long into the night, as long as the charge held out, imagining what it might be like to feel those lips brush against his skin. 

* * *

Friday came at last, and Prompto couldn't sit still to save his life. All morning, he'd been rushing around the studio in a barely contained panic, visibly buzzing with a combination of excitement and nerves. He checked and rechecked the schedule, changed half the bulbs in the floor lights, swept the office and even the studio, all while chattering constantly about nothing until Cor stopped trying to keep up. 

The energy, of course, was just a distraction. Staying busy meant Prompto wasn't watching the clock, counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds ticking by. At least not consciously. But every time the bell above the front door chimed or Cor's flat voice answered the phone, Prompto was instantly alert again, hanging by for the news he was waiting to hear. 

Then, sometime just before his break, it finally happened. Cor peered back into the studio from the front office, seeking out Prompto where he'd been polishing a shine onto a prop mirror. Asked, in a completely unassuming tone, if those Crownsguard prints were ready yet. And had to dive out of the way as Prompto went racing past him to the front desk. 

The photographs were already in his hand as Gladio came into view, looking (Prompto thought) impossibly more handsome than he had the last time. Dressed casually in a loose hoodie, running shorts, and tight leggings, he may as well have just swung by from the gym. In fact, from the way his hair clung in places to his neck and temples, Prompto was almost certain of it. The thought had another flock of butterflies flapping around in his stomach. 

"Hi!" he greeted excitedly. Probably too excitedly, for Cor rolled his eyes and chose that moment to disappear into the back of the shop. 

Gladio, however, seemed not to notice him leave. "Hey, Prompto. I was hoping you'd be here today," he smiled. "I came to pick up the photos, if that's cool?" 

Nodding, Prompto opened the envelope and pulled out the set of pictures they'd decided to print. Some of them had been decorated with mock up text for the poster design, but a few he'd intentionally left unedited. It'd seemed a waste to cover Gladio up. 

"Got 'em right here! These two turned out really good," he explained, setting the photos in question out on the table. "If you wanted to go with more of a dramatic look, we've got these here, and a few extras for reference here. What do you think?" 

He waited for a moment, rocking on his heels and watching Gladio examine the photos in front of him. Prompto hoped -  _ gods,  _ did he hope - that Gladio would like how they turned out. He'd put so much effort into them, had spent so many hours making minor edits that he almost felt he knew Gladio's face and body by heart. Even now, he couldn't help but study him up close, cataloging to memory every new detail: the way his hair curled at the ends when damp, the depth of a scar that ran over his left brow, the perfect way his mouth curved at the edges when he was lost in thought. 

When Gladio glanced up, it was to find Prompto already eagerly meeting his gaze. "I don't know how you did it," he chuckled. "But these are incredible. You sure this is really me in the picture?" 

"Heh, of course. Actually…I didn't have to do much editing. You're pretty much perfect already." His brain caught up with his mouth, and he quickly fumbled for a recovery. "I-I mean, you're super photogenic! Some people are lucky like that, ha ha. It makes my job easy." 

"If you say so." Picking up one of the photos, Gladio held it out near Prompto's face so he could smile at both at the same time. "Still, it's impressive. How'd you get the background to look like that?" 

To his credit, Prompto somehow managed to look mostly casual when he offered, "I could show you, if you want?" 

* * *

There was no rule against bringing customers back into the shop to see where the magic happened. It was simply that most customers didn't really care beyond getting their work done for a reasonable price. Gladio, on the other hand, seemed genuinely interested as Prompto demonstrated the photo editing software to him on the office laptop. It was a program he himself was still learning, but he found Gladio an eager study in the various tools, filters, and tricks Prompto showed him. 

First, he took one of the shots they had done earlier in the week - one in which Gladio wore only his tank top, his tattoos on full, glorious display for the camera. Then he adjusted the contrast, sharpened the focus and zoomed in to center his arms in the frame. A few more adjustments had the dark lines popping almost right out of the screen. Even Gladio couldn't believe his eyes. 

"That's incredible. I wish I really looked that good." 

Laughing, Prompto couldn't resist the opening. "This  _ is  _ you. I haven't changed anything but the focus, really, to enhance what's already there." 

"Do you always flatter your clients like this?" 

His smile, shy beneath pink cheeks, was more than answer enough. At least it apparently was for Gladio, who continued to watch him even as he sank back in the sofa at his side. "I gotta admit, I'm not sure which photo of yours I should pick. They're all good, but I have no idea what kind of look my dad - that is, my boss - is going for with these posters." Thoughtfully, he scratched at the dark hairs along his jaw. "Actually, he wanted to be the one to come pick them up today. I kinda…insisted on doing it myself." 

"Really? Why's that?" Prompto asked.

"Honestly? 'Cause I was hoping for a chance to see you again."

"M-me?" Was it suddenly hot in the studio, or was it just his face? He must have looked like a tree lit up on Solstice, all pinks and reds and splotchy freckles decorating both of his cheeks. He hoped Gladio was a fan of the holidays, or at least of speechless, yellow-haired lobsters, because he was pretty sure the guy he'd spent all week crushing on was trying to say….

"How far off am I?" Gladio braved into the silence that had fallen between them. Gone was his smug grin, replaced by something almost defeated. "Did I read this wrong?" 

"W…wrong?" Prompto parroted. 

A laugh this time. Gladio ran his fingers back through his hair, a habit of his that was already quite endearing. "Let me, uh, try this again. Are you free tonight? Wanna catch a movie, go to dinner, something like that? Together, I mean. You and me."

_ Like…a date? _ Having never been on one, Prompto wasn't exactly an expert on the subject. But even he could tell that if he didn't say something, and fast, he wouldn't get the chance to find out. "Dinner!" he said, somewhere between a squeak and a whisper. "Y-yeah, totally. Dinner sounds great." 

"Yeah?" 

"Uh-huh."  _ Oh, gods, he's smiling at me again. Don't blow this, Argentum. Say something cool.  _ "Dinner is, like, one of my favorite things." 

_ …Dude, weak.  _

But Gladio simply laughed in that rich baritone of his, a sound that Prompto was quickly coming to love, and brushed his knuckles against the sleeve of Prompto's shirt. "Good. Me, too. I know a place, it's not far from here. What time do you finish work? I'll stop by to pick you up." 

This was happening fast, and his head was feeling unusually light. It also could have been the fact that Prompto'd been holding his breath without realizing it. He released it now, "U-um, hang out, let me che--"

"Five-thirty!" Cor shouted unceremoniously from the other side of the curtains. 

Like a teenager caught in the act, Gladio hid behind a crooked grin, while Prompto mentally kicked himself out of sheer embarrassment. Thankfully, he was spared the need to recover on his own. 

"Five-thirty then. In the meantime," Gladio winked, and raised his voice now that he knew they weren't alone. "I'll take the photos to my dad, and let you know what he says. How does that sound?" 

Blue eyes met honeyed brown, and Prompto smiled. "Perfect. It's perfect." 


	4. In Dreams You Will Lose Your Heartaches

It was five-thirty three when Prompto, toting his camera bag and fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, stepped out of the shop. The sun was just beginning to drop toward the horizon, but in a city like Insomnia, shadows already clung between the buildings to the streets. In contrast, the early sunset beyond the skyscrapers was painted in soft blues and pinks. Too pretty, Prompto thought, to pass up a shot. 

That’s how Gladio found him several minutes later, still hidden behind the lens of his camera in the middle of the sidewalk. Lost in the moment, it seemed, and completely oblivious to the footsteps approaching from his right. 

Gladio took a few heartbeats to appreciate the scene before he cleared his throat. 

"You're not still on the clock, are ya?"

The shutter clicked, and Prompto started to lower his camera. He turned with a sheepish grin to offer a quip in response, but instead found his tongue tied at the sight that awaited him. Gladio looked  _ a-may-zing _ in a fitted black sweater, one that clung to his arms and chest and accentuated every curve of the muscles beneath. Instead of the loose-fitting track pants he'd worn to the shop earlier that day, he'd opted for a pair of white denim jeans that hugged impressive thighs. He had apparently even found time to trim his beard, and Prompto couldn't deny that the sharp lines of dark hair along Gladio's jaw were most tempting of all. 

But he was staring (again), which was possibly the most awkward way to start a date. Hadn't Gladio asked him a question or something? Something about a clock. And his camera…? He hadn't really been paying attention. 

Apologetically, Prompto bit his lip in a smile. "Um, hi. Nice to see you again." 

"You, too," Gladio laughed. "I guess you're pretty into that thing, huh? Wonder how long I could’ve gotten away with just standing here watching you work." 

He was suddenly glad for the tint of the sunset that hid the splash of surprise to his cheeks. “O-oh? How long were you standing there? Sorry. I guess I can get pretty spaced out when I’m focused like that.” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s cute.” Gladio paused while Prompto fumbled to put his camera back into its bag. “So I hope you’re hungry. The place I was talking about is just a few blocks up that way. You good for a walk?” 

“S-sure am! What kind of place is it?” 

“You’ll see,” he replied, the corners of his mouth still curved up in amusement. With a wide arc of his boot, he swung himself around in the same direction he’d come from, and started walking. 

Prompto fell into step beside him. “So, uh. Did you have a chance to show your da- er, your  _ boss _ those photos?”

“Not yet. He’s on extra duty at the Citadel this week.” While they walked, Gladio gestured off to their west, vaguely in the direction of the city center, where Prompto could see the tall towers of Insomnia’s royal hub even over the tops of the other buildings. “Heightened security before the King’s annual gala. There’s always some kind of bomb threat, or weirdos showing up with illegal Niff tech. My dad’s there to make sure they don’t make it past the gates.”

“Oh. That sounds...dangerous.” Prompto fell quiet. Of  _ course  _ it was dangerous. He knew full well that Gladio was a member of the elite Crownsguard, didn’t he? What had he expected they did when they weren’t posing for photoshoots? 

Thankfully, Gladio didn’t seem bothered by the rather obvious comment. “It’s part of the job. 'Shields of the King,' y'know? But, uh, what about you?" he asked, changing the subject with a nervous smile. "Can't just talk about me all night. How'd you get into this job, anyway?" 

"Photography? I guess…I never really thought about it. Looking for other work, I mean. I've always loved taking photos - of people, places, anything, honestly. Ever since my parents gave me this camera," he said carefully. It was a truthful answer, of course, but the same version he'd give anyone as cool and handsome and likeable as Gladio. No sense in scaring him off so soon with too many details. "Kind of a boring story, huh? Compared to you, anyway." 

"Hm? I don't think so. Sounds like we have a lot in common, actually." 

Prompto blinked. "We do?" 

"Sure. I didn't exactly  _ choose _ the Crownsguard, either. We both seem to be following a path that was set for us a long time ago, nothing wrong with that." 

"Hmm…." It was an interesting point, Prompto had to give him that. He'd never considered photography to be anything more than a hobby that helped pay the bills. Certainly he'd never thought that it might be his calling, his destiny so to speak. 

He was still mulling it over when Gladio asked the next logical question in the conversation. "So, are your parents photographers, too?" 

Prompto wasn't so startled by the question that he tripped over his feet or anything, but he  _ did  _ suddenly find himself at loss for words.  _ Parents.  _ That was…a complicated topic, and one he wasn't sure how to answer without bringing the conversation to a grinding halt. "They, um. They were scientists," he settled on after a long pause. "I think. I don't really remember, actually. They used to work in Gralea a lot." 

"Oh," was all Gladio said, though his eyes were suddenly trained on Prompto as if he'd sprouted an extra head. 

"Y-yeah. The camera was a Solstice present, when I was about six. They said it would help keep me company when they were away on business, and stuff." 

Was that too much? He'd tried to keep it light, and his voice from falling, but there was no way to hide the way the embarrassment made his shoulders droop. It was never easy explaining to someone with a family what it was like growing up without one. 

But Gladio, thankfully, seemed to understand better than most. "I hope they were right. I lost my mom after my sister was born. This is what I have to remember her by," he smiled, softer than before, as he reached into the front of his sweater and hooked his thumb around a beaded necklace. It was made in patterns of black and dark brown, like his hair, and decorated with bronzed skulls and a cross at the end. Prompto whistled low at the sight. 

"It's gorgeous," he said, awed, and earned a chuckle in response. 

"Thanks. She'd be happy to know you like it." A few more steps brought them to the edge of the sidewalk. Gladio came to a stop, and pointed across the street to a row of buildings. "That's the place. Ever been here?" 

Assuming he was talking about the two-story, glass-walled restaurant with  _ Maagho _ scrawled above the doors in flowing script, the answer was most definitely 'like hell.' It was easily the fanciest place Prompto had ever seen outside of the Citadel itself. A five-star kind of place, decorated out front with exotic plants and winged statues that suggested they might serve high-class Altissian cuisine. At any rate, it was  _ way  _ out of Prompto's price range, as he was suddenly acutely aware of the holes worn into the sleeves on his hoodie. 

Unable to form the words to tell Gladio just how bad of an idea this had become, he merely shook his head. 

"Great!" Gladio grinned, completely missing the way Prompto was now tugging nervously on the strings of his hood. "I was hoping I could be your first. Er. I mean, your first time eating here, I'm uh, glad it's with me.…" Eyebrows tight, he ran his fingers through his hair and stared directly down at the toes of his boots. "Nevermind. You ready?" 

"We're, um, going in there? Like, actually inside?" 

"Yeah, I reserved a table upstairs by the windows." A hand on his shoulder helped draw Prompto's attention away from a new stain he'd noticed on his sneaker. "Don't worry, Weskham is a great chef. Everything here is made with authentic ingredients imported from Accordo. None of that fake take-out stuff." 

Again, Prompto swallowed back the urge to admit his experience with 'fancy cuisine' was whatever he could afford on the value menu at the Crow's Nest. "Right. Cool. I…can't wait."

The inside of the restaurant all but confirmed it: this maneuver was about to cost him at least a month's rent. Even the curtains on the windows probably cost more each than he could earn in half a year. There were accents in silver and bronze on the tables, the chairs, the ornate light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Prompto was pretty sure he stood out like an underdressed thumb. 

"Mr. Amicitia. Thank you for your patronage today." A waiter in a starched white shirt and graceful steps approached them, menus tucked under one arm. "Allow me to show you to your table." 

"Cool, thanks. After you," Gladio grinned. He guided Prompto forward on hesitant steps, making sure to stick close by his side. "You okay? Nervous or something?" 

"I…wish I had brought a change of clothes," he whispered back. Not that he owned anything nearly nice enough for the  _ Maagho,  _ but at least he would have washed his shirts first. 

As they reached their table -- a comfortable four-person table, with napkins already folded into the shape of wings in the center of each plate -- Gladio took the chance to lean down next to his ear. "You look amazing, Prom." 

Red-faced, he could only hurry forward into the seat the waiter had pulled out for him. 

He watched Gladio settle in casually across from him. The waiter handed them each a slender leather-bound menu, and announced he would be back to take their orders shortly. 

"So, uh. What's good here?" Prompto started in the quiet of his absence. The menu listed all kinds of dishes he'd never heard of and probably couldn't pronounce right if he tried. But worst of all, and confirming his worries, there wasn't a single price written on anything, anywhere. Restaurants without price tags were only the kind of places people who didn't have to worry about prices went. 

"You ever had carpaccio? It's pretty good," Gladio explained when Prompto, wide eyed, merely shook his head. "I don't know what kind of fish they use, but it's got a great sauce. Oh, or Weskham makes an awesome lasagna with all these different cheeses. Do you like cheese?" 

"U-uh, not really," he lied, already thinking about how many favors he was going to owe Aranea to bail his wallet out of this one. "You know, I had a pretty big lunch, I don't think I could eat a huge meal right now. Do they have, like, just salads or something?" 

For a moment, Gladio made a point of looking him over - his thin shoulders and slim arms, the way his hoodie hung off him like an oversized bag - and struggled to fight back a frown. "Yeah, they've got salads. You like Waldorfs?" 

"Wal-whats?" 

" _ Dorf _ ," Gladio laughed. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes when he flagged over the waiter again. "Trust me, Prom. I think you'll love it. If not, you can have the rest of my fish, okay?" 

"S-sure. If you say it's good, it must be." 

"Sirs?" the waiter smiled professionally as he all but floated over to their table. Prompto couldn't help but notice he didn't bother with a pen and paper, and swallowed again. 

"The cernia for me, and a Waldorf for my date. Oh," Gladio added, glancing at a very red-cheeked Prompto. "Do you drink? Red wine or white?" 

"U-uhhh…." 

"May I suggest a glass of white for you, sir, and a house red with the salad? The flavors pair quite nicely." 

Gladio was still smiling at Prompto expectantly. "U-uh, I'm okay with water, actually…." 

"Understood, sir. Anything else?" 

Prompto shook his head. The waiter retreated, leaving Gladio gazing across the table at him in silence for a few seconds. A question, or maybe something else, hung on his lips, but before he had a chance to ask it, Prompto effectively changed the subject. “So, how’d you find this place? It’s really nice, huh. I’ve never been to such a fancy restaurant before.”

“Really?” Though his eyes hadn’t left Prompto, Gladio at least appeared to relax visibly now that the date was less derailed. “My family comes here sometimes, just for special occasions. Weskham - he’s the chef I mentioned - is an old friend of my dad. They used to train together when the Crownsguard was still just a small unit of bodyguards for the king.” 

“Oh,” Prompto answered emphatically, nodding as if he had the slightest clue what any of that meant. 

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I've been here, though. I think the last time must’ve been….” As he trailed off, Gladio actually pulled out his fingers to count on them one by one. It was as endearing as it was comical. “Eight months ago? We had my sister’s birthday dinner here. Y’know, the family one, without all the cake and presents and preteens running around in the backyard.” 

Again, Prompto could only nod. “You mentioned her before. What’s she like?” 

“Iris?” He smiled, then shook his head, then reached into his back pocket for his phone. “She’s an Amicitia, which means she’s stubborn, tough as a nail, and can run laps around me when she puts her mind to it. Here, this was from last weekend,” he said, holding his phone out for Prompto to see the photo on the screen. It was dark, a little blurry, but there was no mistaking the handsome grin plastered on the familiar face of the man across from him. Jumping into the selfie next to him was a young girl, about twelve or thirteen, with soft eyes and a smile to match her brother’s. “I took her to see the new Warriors of Light movie. At least she’s got good taste, right?” 

Prompto didn’t know much about movies, but he smiled to himself as he took one last appraising look at the photo. “Not a bad shot, either. The angle is flattering.”

“Coming from an expert photographer, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Oblivious to the way Prompto suddenly fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt under the table at the comment, Gladio once again pocketed his phone. His hands, Prompto couldn’t help but notice, came to rest much closer to the middle of the table. “That’s basically the family. My dad, my kid sis, and me. You got any siblings?” 

He didn’t, of course. Or any real family to speak of, for that matter, but that seemed like a topic best not to delve into on a first date. So instead, Prompto tilted his head in a shrug. “Kinda? I’ve got Aranea, and she’s basically like a sister to me. Then there’s Cindy, and Talcott, and a few of the other kids I grew up wi- um, grew up near. We’re all super close,” he added hastily, hoping Gladio wouldn’t read too much into it. “They mean the world to me, so that has to count for something, right?” 

“It does,” Gladio nodded. He was smiling again, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners. “I hope I get to meet them someday.” 

“...Me, too.” 

He was still blushing. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, right underneath his freckles and above the smile he simply couldn’t seem to shake. While he still wasn’t being completely open and honest with Gladio, he was starting to get the impression that none of that mattered. He wasn’t feeling  _ judged _ , or scrutinized, like he’d imagined a date in the spotlight might go. And yeah, maybe the restaurant was a bit much for his usual palette, but it still flattered him that Gladio had gone to so much trouble to try. 

Still smiling, Prompto hid his tinted cheeks behind a glass of water. 

To his relief, he was spared further embarrassment by the timely arrival of their food. As expected, the plate set in front of Gladio was a feast in and of itself -- boiled fish under a vinaigrette dressing, fresh lettuce and vegetables arranged in a ring, and topped with what must have been several different types of fresh cheese grated over the whole meal. The smell alone had Prompto’s mouth suddenly watering with interest before he even saw his own food. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. If he’d been expecting a small, boring salad, he’d been wrong -- there were dried fruits and nuts mixed in with the greens, along with small tomatoes, sliced onion, and even black olives. The dressing, the waiter explained professionally, was a cranberry base vinaigrette made in house by the chef himself. As he poured it over the salad, Prompto watched with eyes at least ten times larger than his stomach, and then some. 

“Told you you’d like it,” Gladio grinned, victorious when the first bite quickly led to a second and a third. While he was eagerly digging into his own food, the sight of Prompto devouring the salad was evidently far more entertaining. 

“It’s  _ so  _ good!” Around a mouthful of sweet, sour, melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness, Prompto managed a smile. “It has cranberries  _ and _ walnuts!” 

“I’m glad you’re easy to impress,” Gladio chuckled. “Maybe next time I’ll cook something, and see what you think.” 

Prompto, fork hovering between his lips, merely grinned. 

* * *

Between the main dishes, the dessert (a blueberry-and-chocolate topped decadent slice of cheesecake), and two glasses of wine on Gladio’s side of the table, the meal was drawing to a close. Leaning back in his chair, Gladio signaled something to the waiter, who nodded in silent understanding across the room. For a moment, he disappeared behind a curtain into what must have been the kitchen, then reemerged a moment later carrying a small black card. 

“Thank you for your visit today. A message from the chef.” He passed the card to Gladio, waited for him to pocket it, then bowed to them both to bid farewell. 

Prompto hesitated in his seat. “That’s it? What about the check?” Yeah, that thing that had been weighing on his mind all evening, a constant mood killer in the back on his thoughts waiting to pounce. He’d even stealthily slipped out his wallet, counting the few bills and coins in there and praying it would be enough to cover the costs.

But Gladio only shrugged. Threw an arm around his shoulders and, with a final nod to the waiter, led Prompto back out past the front doors. “Weskham is a good friend” he explained eventually, once they were back outside in the cool evening streets. “And besides, I’m the one who invited you to dinner. Don’t worry about it.” 

“But….” Biting his lip, Prompto hugged tighter in his sweatshirt against the chilly air. “Are you sure you…?” 

“Positive. I had a great time tonight, Prom.” They came to a stop together at the corner, beneath the light of a street lamp which illuminated Gladio’s eyes. “Thanks for coming out with me.” 

“I had a good time, too. Um.” 

Maybe it was the wind, but Prompto couldn’t help shifting closer against Gladio’s chest beneath his arm.  _ Gods _ , he was warm. Solid, too, and comforting. It was a shame to have to leave it so soon. “I’d like to see you again. Sometime, y’know. If you want.” 

When Gladio chuckled, it rumbled through both of them at once. “Definitely. Think I could, uh, maybe get your number? I’ll text you, we can make plans.” 

Right. A phone. Most normal people had one of those. People who weren’t Prompto, which in that moment was unfortunately just who he happened to be. “Y-yeah, sure. My number. Uh, you know what? I think I left my phone at the studio, actually. I'm such a scatterbrain sometimes."

It was a plausible excuse. The weak smile he offered in apology was fairly believable, as well, or at least he hoped it came across that way. At any rate, he'd rather Gladio think he was a total space case than know he was flat broke. Or worse -- think he didn't want to see him again.

"Well that's conveniently inconvenient." A grin, and the arm around Prompto's shoulders slipped away. He turned to see Gladio instead reaching into his pocket for his wallet for the second time that evening. 

"What are…?" 

"I'd love to see you again sometime. When you find your phone, give me a chance?" He handed over a card, all black with thin white lettering.  _ Crownsguard _ , it read across the top, and beneath was a number. 

A phone number. 

_ Gladio's  _ phone number. 

Prompto held it between his fingers like he'd just been given a thousand-gil bill. "Um. Of course, I'll text you tonight," he said, meaning it. "I want to see you again, too. I had a really nice time. Y'know, with you. The restaurant was a nice touch, too." 

When Gladio chuckled, the rumble of it had Prompto's toes curling inside his worn sneakers. "Then I'll be waiting. Hope to hear from you, Prom." 

The nickname, somehow already so natural on those full lips, only served to seal the deal. How could Prompto refuse? Why would he  _ want _ to? Gladio was beyond perfect, and he was suddenly beyond sad to see him turn to leave. "Bye! Thanks again!" he called out. Watched after him for a long while, until his broad shoulders finally began to disappear into the distance down the street. Until, with a loud hiss of air, the bus he was supposed to be catching back to his side of town pulled up at the corner stop, and he was forced to abandon his daydreaming in favor of scrambling to catch it. 


	5. If You Keep on Believing

The knock on the door was quiet, subtle, so much so that there was almost no way the person on the other side could have noticed at all. In fact, Prompto was nearly counting on it. As much bravado he'd had earlier in front of his date, the  _ actual _ prospect of  _ actually  _ begging Aranea for help was enough to give him cold feet. 

To both his relief and terror in equal measure, however, Aranea  _ did _ hear him knock. That, or she'd just had impeccable timing, and had chosen that very moment to open the door to her room. 

She stood there, half dressed and blinking wearily out into the light of the corridor. In her right hand, a bottle of whiskey that Prompto could only guess she'd been at all evening, and in her left was the very prize he sought. 

"Whaddya want, squirt?" Aranea grumbled. The venom in her voice was lessened by the way the whiskey slurred her words. 

Prompto shuffled to his other foot. "He-eey, buddy! Just the lovely lady I was hoping to see tonight!"

" _ You  _ knocked on  _ my  _ door. What do you want?" 

"Eheh. Can't I just stop by to see my friend?"

"Prompto," she sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose between two long, black-painted nails. "Cut the crap. I've had a day that would make your hair stand up like the ass end of a chocobo, so tell me what you're here for or get lost." 

Well, so much for buttering her up, he gulped. "Right. Um. Well, actually, I was kinda hoping I could, um. Borrow something. Your phone," he completed quickly lest her glare pierce a hole through his skull. "Just for a little bit. I promise." 

"My phone, huh." A hint of humor came back to her face in the form of a knowing smirk. "This about that Mr. Dreamboat of yours?" 

"His name's Gladio," Prompto whispered. 

Maybe it was the genuine flush of embarrassment -- mixed with something else -- that won her over, or maybe she was getting softer with age. But after only a few heartbeats of watching him stand in the hallway, shuffling awkwardly in his worn, loose socks, Aranea held out her phone for him to take. "Don't go over my data or I'll hang you from the top of the stairs by your underwear, got it?" 

"Y-yes, ma'am!" 

"And charge it up before you bring it back." 

"Of course!" 

"One last thing, buttercup." Prompto paused outside of her door, where he'd been ready to rush back to his own room with his prize. "Have some confidence in yourself, yeah? You're a sweetheart. If this guy's worth a lick, he'll see that, too. So go get him, tiger." 

Speechless, Prompto nodded, and rushed back down the hall with the phone clutched tight to his chest. 

He owed Nea so much, he mused, stepping into his room and shutting the door behind himself. One of these days, when he had money and a place of his own, he'd find a way to pay her back. That was a story for another day, though. For now….

He flopped unceremoniously onto his bed and kicked off both of his socks. The card Gladio had given him was still in his sweatshirt pocket, and he took it out now to admire it between his hands. So professional, so cool. Gladio really had everything, didn't he. A sweet job, a loving family, lips that could make a fish thirsty. Not to mention that  _ body _ . He was almost unfairly perfect, and yet somehow, of all the options he had in Insomnia, he'd picked Prompto.

Well, okay, so maybe one date didn't mean all that much. But he was still flattered nonetheless. He also knew that if he didn't text him soon, he risked making Gladio think he'd lost interest. But how to start?

_ [Thanks for dinner!]  _ he typed in a chat window, then instantly deleted it. No, he had to make this count, no mistakes. [ _ Hey, it's Prompto, just wanted to say thanks again for tonight.]  _ A pause as he surveyed his work, then added: [ _ Hope I can see you again soon.]  _

There. Subtle, but leaving room for Gladio to take the opening if he wanted. Prompto sucked in a breath of courage before hitting send on the screen of Aranea's phone. 

It was 'read' almost instantly. His heart started pounding. 

_ [ _ **_Hey_ ** , _ ] _ came the first reply.  _ [ _ **_Been thinking about you all night. I'm glad you decided to give me a chance_ ** _.]  _

Swallowing back his nerves, Prompto drew his knees up and tucked in to send a reply of his own.  _ [Of course, I'd never pass up on a totally awesome guy like you.]  _

He could almost hear Gladio's deep chuckle in his next response.  _ [ _ **_Yeah? I could say the same about you. Talented, cute, and those gorgeous eyes._ ** _ ] _

The next message was just an emoji, but Prompto‘s face heated up all the same. [ _ Thanks,]  _ he typed with bated breath.  _ [I like your eyes too.]  _ Was that too desperate? He felt like that was too desperate.  _ [Are you busy now? I'm not bothering you am I?]  _

_ [ _ **_Not at all. I really was just thinking about you._ ** _ ]  _

He couldn't quite explain it, but reading that…did things to Prompto. It made his toes curl in the sheets, and a spark of curiosity rippled right through him. It was late, almost eleven according to Aranea's phone. Surely Gladio was in bed by now, too? What  _ exactly  _ had been on his mind at this hour? 

Boldly, Prompto took another leap of faith.  _ [Really? I've been thinking about you too. A lot, actually. I can't help it.] _

_ [ _ **_Looks like we might have the same problem then,_ ** _ ]  _ came the reply, and Prompto audibly gulped. 

There was no time to worry if he was reading into things, jumping the gun when they really barely knew each other. Hells, Prompto couldn't even be sure Gladio felt the same way about him, though he was doing his best to read between the lines. Doubt had been shoved to the background of his mind, while in the forefront the rest of him was tingling with hope. 

_ [Maybe _ , _ ] _ he wrote into the chat window, followed by a winking emoji.  _ [At least I've seen you without your shirt on, so I've got the visual advantage here.] _

Done. Sent. Now to wait for the reply which would tell him just how badly he'd read that situation. 

It came several minutes later, not as a text, but in the form of a phone call.

Prompto finally found the courage to pick up on the third ring. "H-hello?" 

"Hope you don't mind," came that familiar baritone on the other end of the line. Gladio cleared his throat once before he continued. "I, uh, wanted to hear your voice." 

"Y-yeah, it's totally fine. I'm glad you called. This is…nice." In the dark of his room, Prompto tucked the phone up against his ear and chewed his lip to keep his voice low. 

"Are you alone, Prom?"

"Yeah." 

"You know," said Gladio, as if his mouth were pressed to his ear instead of a cold glass screen. "I can't get the sight of you in that hoodie out of my head. I keep trying to picture what you look like under all those baggy clothes." 

"Pretty scrawny, I guess." Then, remembering Aranea's words, he added; "Are you into that?"

"I'm into you."

" _ Mmh _ ." A soft whine, low to counter the thin walls of the room, passed his lips. 

"What are you wearing now?"

His voice broke a little when he answered. "Just the t-shirt I usually wear to bed. It's kinda old, used to be black but now it's like a faded grey." 

"That is pretty old then." Through the phone, Gladio chuckled. "No pajamas? Sleep pants? I'm trying to get the image just right."

"Nope," he answered with a sheepish smile no one else could see. "Just my boxers. Can you guess what color those are?" 

" _ Hmmmm.  _ Let's see. Something dark, navy blue? Bet that'd look real good against your skin." 

Prompto glanced down at the fabric peeking out from under his shirt, and shook his head. "Try again."

"Red? Black? Is it orange?" 

"Sorry. Boring old white. Better luck next time," he said, laughing.

But Gladio didn't seem the least bit disappointed to have lost that round. "White, huh? That's cute. Wish I could see for myself." 

"Oh. Well, u-um. Can you hang on a sec?" This was stupid. Totally stupid, and Aranea was going to kill him when she found out -  _ if  _ she found out. He'd just have to make sure that didn't happen, he thought to himself as he climbed out of bed and rushed over to flip on his bedroom light. There was no mirror on any of the walls, and he couldn't risk sneaking out down the hall to the bathrooms this late. So he made due with some creative angling, tugging the hem of his shirt down almost modestly and snapping a photo in selfie mode. 

It was a bit blurry, but it got the job done. 

"Hey, you still there?" Lights off again, he crept back into bed, careful not to make a sound. "How do I send you a pic?" 

Gladio was quiet for a few heartbeats. Then, excitedly: "The, uh, chat is fine. Did you just…? Really?" 

"Mm-hm. There, sent." 

Prompto's cheeks were warm as he heard the phone being shifted on the other end of the line. A low, soft whistle, and Gladio was suddenly back just long enough to send his temperature skyrocketing. " _ Six,  _ Prom. Do you have any idea how hot you are?" He said something else, too, but it was lost to the background noise of something shuffling. There was a sound like the click of a shutter, then a notification pinging on Prompto's end. 

" _ Oh em gee, _ " he half gasped, half whined at the picture that greeted him. Though Gladio was no cameraman, he had managed the shot pretty well. He was lying in his bed, stretched out in a way that made the mattress beneath him appear almost small. His upper body was hard, and the pose accentuated the firm, rippling abs and the dark lines of his tattoos. But even more than his chest, Prompto's eyes were drawn further down to where a pair of blue sweatshorts barely concealed new expanses of skin. 

His eyes widened in the dark of his bedroom. In his ears, his heart pounded a mile a minute, as fast as if he'd just come back from a run, and his fingers suddenly itched to take care of the  _ other  _ problem growing in his lap. 

"Prom? You still there?" Gladio's tinny voice rang out from the speakers, and Prompto hastily fumbled the phone up to his ear. 

"Y-yeah! I'm here, I just….  _ Wow." _

"Wow?" 

" _ Very _ wow." 

"I'll mark you off as speechless," he chuckled. "But what I wouldn't give to be there to show you in person." 

"I wish you were here, too," Prompto groaned. He was almost surprised to realize how much he meant that, in so many more ways than one. "I wish tonight had never ended."

"It doesn't have to, Prom. We still have this." 

"Yeah, but…." Chewing his cheek for a moment, he considered his options. On one hand, a solution to both of their problems. In the other, another lonely night of jerking it  _ without _ the sound of Gladio's rough voice pressed to his ear. He licked his lips cautiously. "There's so much more we could be doing." 

" _ Gods,  _ Prompto. What would you want me to do to you if I was there right now?" 

It was bold, and direct, but it was exactly the kind of response Prompto was hoping for. He sunk deeper into his mattress as he let his eyes drift closed in the beginning of a fantasy. "First? I'd want you to kiss me," he said, quickly losing all semblance of shyness. "I've thought so much about how good that would feel." 

"I bet you taste like sunshine, baby. I could get lost in your lips." 

"I'd want you," he continued slowly, carefully, letting his fingers trail over his lips, his chin, imagining it was Gladio touching him instead. "To kiss my neck. And, um. To put your hands on me." 

"All over you," Gladio agreed. There was a strain on his voice, an unfocused breathlessness to his words that made Prompto wonder if he was already a few steps ahead. The thought had his fingers picking up their pace. 

"Have you ever…? W-with another guy, I mean."

"Mmhmm, once. You?" 

"N-no. Not with anyone." He shivered at the way Gladio's humming voice caressed his ear. "I want to, though. With you." 

"Are you touching yourself, Prom?" 

_ Almost. So close,  _ he thought, fingers teasing the hem of his boxers as if waiting for permission to dip inside. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate. He jerked off all the time, but never before with an audience.  _ Or,  _ he thought with a shiver,  _ a partner _ . His lips trembled as he tried to form the words he felt in his heart. 

"...Can we? Together?" 

"Yeah, Prom, baby. Talk me through it. Tell me how you like to be touched." 

He did. With soft words, quiet so as not to bleed through the walls, and with his hand shoved in his underpants, he let both the Gladio on the phone and the one in his imagination follow his lead. Stroking him, squeezing just right. Bringing him to the edge at such a steady pace that by the time he was spilling over his entire body was trembling with the thrill. 

And just as his breathing slowed to normal, he heard Gladio go tense on the other end. He heard the hitch in his voice, the relief as he came. The heavy, sated sighs of a well earned orgasm. Prompto could picture it easily, those hard abs rising and falling rapidly, and streaked with white. A scene too perfect not to capture for posterity. 

"Click," he said softly, holding up one hand into the dark of his bedroom to push an invisible shutter. "Gonna commit that one to the memory banks, if you don't mind." 

A little breathlessly, Gladio chuckled into his ear. "I don't. But how about next time we try for the real deal?" 

"...I'd like that." 

"What time do you start work tomorrow?" 

"Huh?" Eyes growing heavy, Prompto shot a grin into the empty room. "Eight. But that's not exactly a good time to, um…." 

"Yeah, I know. I just want to see you. I can swing by during my morning run." 

"How about--" he paused to yawn "--I do you one better and join you for that run?" 

"Perfect. Meet you outside the studio at six-thirty?" 

"Seven, and deal."

"Sounds great, Prom. And, hey. Thanks." 

Another yawn. "For what?" 

"Giving me a chance. Good night, babe." 

"Night, Gladio." 

He was asleep before the phone hit the pillow. 


	6. So this is Love

Everything felt...different that morning. His room was exactly as it always was, from the shadows and stains on the walls to the dim sliver of sunlight that managed to reach his window between the buildings. His sparse clothes were still in a messy pile on his floor, and there was still no hot water in the bathroom he shared with the others on the hall. Outwardly, nothing seemed to have changed at all. 

And yet, as Prompto ran his head under the sink tap, lathering soap into his hair as he did almost every morning, even the ice cold water couldn't wash the smile off his face. While he toweled off, his mind wandered back to the night before. To the sound of Gladio's rough voice mixed with his own pleasure, and all the things that had been implied. For the first time, Prompto felt...wanted. He felt sexy. And he couldn't wait to see Gladio again soon to return the sentiment in person. 

"The black one?" he said aloud to the t-shirt in his left hand. "Or grey?" In his right, he held up an almost identical shirt, one that had faded in parts and was losing its shape around the collar. Honestly, he knew it didn't matter which one he picked - either way it'd be covered soon under his hoodie - but something that morning made him stop to consider the choice anyway. More than for work, he wanted to make sure he  _ felt _ his best for meeting Gladio.

"Definitely black," he decided with a smile, and tugged the shirt down over his head. 

Aranea was still sleeping when he headed out just before six. He slid her phone between the bottom of her door and the worn carpet of the hallway, and hoped she'd be in a forgiving mood when she finally woke up. Unlikely, he grimaced, remembering the amount of whiskey she'd imbibed the night before. At the very least he hoped she wouldn't notice that he'd forgotten to charge the thing - or how long he'd spent on the call with Gladio. He didn't know much about data or how much phone plans cost, but he knew he probably owed her a few gil towards the bill. 

His list of debts only ever seemed to be growing these days. 

Prompto snuck quietly down the hall, then descended the stairs to the first floor. Curfew at the Home referred more to being back by midnight than leaving early, so no one really cared if he was out before the sun had fully risen. Anyway, he was pretty sure he was the only one awake in the whole building. A bunch of teenagers without steady jobs meant the general start to their day happened sometime around noon. 

So, Prompto was _ almost _ right about being the only resident up and about that early. There was just one person he hadn't factored into his calculations.

_ Loqi Tummelt. _

"Where do you think you’re off to so early, Argentum?" The voice, surprisingly commanding coming from one of such miniscule stature, caught him off guard. Prompto stopped in his tracks just outside of the usually unoccupied front office. 

"Uh. Good morning, Loqi. I didn't see you there." 

Rounded cheeks puffed up indignantly. "Didn't see…? Is that some sort of joke about my height? You know I don't like jokes, _Argentum._ " 

He cringed internally in lieu of rolling his eyes. Behind him, Loqi Tummelt stood to his full five-and-a-half feet, and folded his arms threateningly over his chest. "S-sorry, sir. It won't happen again." 

"No, it won't. Now," he continued, only slightly relaxing his stance as he approached his target. "What are you doing sneaking around at this hour. You know the rules,  _ and _ what happens to those who break them." 

Actually, he didn't. It was no secret that the punishment for delinquency in the home was severe, but those who had dared to push the limits never seemed willing to talk about what came after. That alone was reason enough for Prompto not to want to find out firsthand. 

"Of course, sir. But I'm just on my way to work, my shift starts early this morning." The lie came easily. After all, it was  _ almost  _ true. "You can check with Mr. Izunia, I talked to him yesterday." 

Loqi  _ hmph _ 'd. The way his eyes raked over him felt like an inquisitor searching for an excuse to string him up. "We'll see about that. Mr. Izunia is occupied this morning, but you better believe I'll bring this up with him later. I'll be keeping a close watch on you." 

"Yeah. Got it, sir." 

"Oh, and Argentum?" Prompto again stopped mid-step, so close and yet so far from the exit. He turned to meet Loqi with a thin smile. "Rent's due a week early this month. Have it in my office by this weekend." 

_ Now _ was Prompto’s cue to panic. Had he heard that right?! Or was Loqi playing at some sort of game? He may have worked his way up over the years to the position of heartless lackey, but surely he didn’t  _ actually _ have the power to extort them all for fun? "Wait, a-are you serious?" he balked. "I just paid for last month, I-I don't have the money yet!" 

With a smile that said he'd expected as much, Loqi shrugged. "That's hardly my problem. Take it up with this so-called job of yours. Or…well, you know Ardyn is a very generous man. I'm certain he'd be willing to help you find a way to make ends meet." 

There it was. That feeling again like spiders calling over his skin, a cold chill seeping into his veins and turning his blood to ice. Ardyn Izunia,  _ generous?  _ Nothing could ever make him go to that man for help, no matter how desperate the situation. He'd find the money on his own _ \-  _ and pay whatever it took to keep from stooping to his level. 

"This weekend!" Loqi called after him, laughing as Prompto threw open the front door and stormed outside. 

* * *

Gladio was already standing outside of the photo studio when the bus pulled up down the block. The sight of him, dressed in a loose t-shirt over running shorts and smiling down at his phone, improved Prompto's mood significantly. He sucked in a deep breath as he stepped off the bus. Pushed all thoughts of Loqi, rent money, and what he'd been practicing saying to Cor to the back of his mind, and jogged up the sidewalk to greet his 'date.' 

"Morning," he waved almost shyly. Gladio paused to take out his earbuds, then mirrored his grin. 

"Hey there, sunshine. Glad you made it." 

"Have you been waiting long?" The sun was barely lighting up the sky overhead, but Prompto couldn't help notice that Gladio was already covered in a light sheen of sweat. And was it just his imagination, or was the beard hugging his jawline even thicker than the day before?

"Nah." He dropped his phone into the duffel bag open on the sidewalk beside him, freeing up both of his hands to take Prompto's into them. "I had a couple errands to run on the way here, and decided to just hoof it from the Citadel. It's great weather for a run, you couldn't have picked a better morning." 

"Flatterer," Prompto grinned anyway. Gladio took it for the invitation that it was, his hands first finding Prompto's shoulders, then moving to wrap him completely within an embrace. It was brief, but for the few seconds they were pressed together, it was magic. 

"Oh, before I forget…."

He lifted his head from that firm, broad chest as Gladio released him again. Despite the morning chill, he was certain his cheeks were as warm and bright as a midsummer afternoon. "Hmm?"

"I got you a little something. Don't worry, it's not anything too expensive, I remember what you said at the restaurant yesterday," he laughed when Prompto opened his mouth to protest. From his duffel, he pulled out a package wrapped in a plastic bag, and held it up for him to take. "Go on, open it."

Prompto wasn't used to receiving presents. Especially not out of the blue and for no reason other than because Gladio had apparently wanted to. He didn't quite know what to say, so instead he offered a shy smile and reached inside the bag. 

"I figured, you're always wearing one of those anyway, and you seemed pretty interested in the Guard," Gladio said as he watched Prompto pull out a dark blue sweatshirt, his eyes going wide. There was an emblem embroidered on the front - a dragon, the Draconean, surrounded by fifteen swords. Prompto recognized it immediately as the sigil of the royal Crownsguard. 

"This...is for me?"

"All yours. If you want it, of course."

"Y-yes! It's…. I love it," he said, and held the hoodie close to his chest. Protectively, as if to say he'd never let anything bad happen to it. Then, hatching a better plan, he tucked the hoodie between his thighs while he wriggled out of the one he was already wearing.

Watching, Gladio chuckled. "Yeah? You like it that much?" He none too subtly drank in the sight of Prompto in nothing but his t-shirt - more of him than he'd yet seen in person - and helped him to pull the old hoodie up and over his head. Hummed in appreciation at the way the dark blue complimented his fair skin, his bright hair, the freckles dotting his cheeks. And chuckled again when Prompto tested it out by stretching thin arms nimbly up in its baggy sleeves. 

"It's perfect! It's so perfect, Gladio!" 

He spun once, landing right into outstretched arms ready to catch him. "You look amazing," Gladio smiled against his ear. "I knew you would." 

Slowly, Prompto turned to face him, his own smile wide beneath cheeks glowing with heat. It occurred to him they were still outside, still on the sidewalk on display for anyone who happened to walk by. For  _ Cor _ , his boss, should he decide to come to the studio early. And he put a half step between them just in case. "T-thank you. I, um. I don't know how to repay you." 

"No need," Gladio said, shaking his head. "It's a present. Y'know, cause...I like you?" 

Prompto drew his fingers down the lengths of Gladio's powerful arms until he could squeeze his hands. A soft, subtle gesture, but the meaning seemed to translate just fine. 

_ Me, too.  _

Aloud, he simply asked, "So, are you ready for that run now?" 

They may have been off to a slow start, but their combined pace soon made up for lost time. Gladio had endurance, stamina that kept his sneakers hitting the pavement of the nearby park trail at a constant march. Never faltering, his legs seeming to carry him onward at an almost mechanical pace. But what Prompto lacked in power, he made up for in short bursts of speed. One moment, he'd be smiling up at Gladio from right at his side, the next he'd take off sprinting around the next curve. By the time Gladio caught up with him, he'd had enough time to catch his breath again for another lap. 

Together, they circled the park three full times before it was Gladio who finally admitted defeat. He conceded with a breathless laugh, and flopped onto the nearest bench with his duffle bag to cool down. Prompto took a few moments to walk out the ache in his calves. It had been a while since he'd pushed himself on a jog like this, after all. But the sight awaiting him was too tempting to resist for long, so readjusting his camera on its strap, he trotted over to take up the empty space on the bench. 

As soon as he settled down at Gladio's side, a heavy arm landed around his shoulders to pull him in closer. "You really are full of surprises." Another few heavy breaths as that solid chest rose and fell almost hypnotically. "Can't remember the last time someone kicked my ass on the track." 

Prompto stretched his legs out from the bench and grinned at nothing in particular. "Maybe it's this hoodie you gave me. It might be good luck. Or maybe it's super aerodynamic." 

"Maybe that's just your hair," Gladio smirked, and earned a well-placed elbow to the side. "About the hoodie, though. I am sorry…." 

"Hm? Why?" 

"Because I'm getting sweat all over it, but I don't care enough to want to let you go." To emphasize his point, he leaned more of his weight against Prompto's frame, sliding his arm down his back until his hand came to rest above his hip. It was...nice. Warm and intimate, the way he'd imagined being held while they'd talked on the phone the night before. Suddenly, Prompto's senses were filled with nothing but Gladio; his scent, his voice, the heat of his body so distracting beneath his palms. And he found that he didn't mind in the least. 

"A small price to pay," he laughed quietly. Despite the way blue eyes drifted closed, his heart was racing from more than just the run. He could feel Gladio's chest beating, too, strong and unyielding under his sweat-dampened shirt. Right beneath his fingers as they traced lazy circles over the curve of his pecs. He could sense Gladio looking at him. Could feel every subtle movement of those ridiculously rock hard muscles as he reached up to brush a few locks of hair from Prompto's brow. 

_ Last night, when we…. _ Prompto chewed his bottom lip.  _ Would it be okay if I just…?  _ He walked his fingers up to the base of Gladio's throat, then up to his chin, to finally rest atop the sharp hairs of his jawline. His thumb stroked his cheek. His eyes guided him in, until somewhere in the middle their lips came together. Tentative at first, but growing bolder when Prompto parted his mouth to ask for more. 

Everything about Gladio left his head spinning. His taste, the incredible contrast between soft lips and rough chin, the weight of his tongue slipping past all his barriers. Going deeper, setting his body on fire from the inside out. In his arms, Prompto shivered, shuddered, sighed as the unexpected kiss heated up.  _ So perfect…. I never want this to end.  _

Somewhere close, a faint but persistent buzzing broke through his mind's haze. 

Gladio shifted uncomfortably. His brows furrowed and, just as Prompto drew back in concern, blinked his eyes as if walking from a dream. 

"Umm?" 

"Uh...shit. That's probably work. Sorry, hang on a sec, yeah?" He left one arm wrapped possessively around his waist while he dug his phone out of his back pocket. Glared at the screen for another two full rings before finally swiping to answer the call. "Sir?" he said in a decidedly irritated tone of voice. Then, "...Oh. Yeah. That's today? When did…? Hm. Yeah, I'll be there soon. … Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.  _ Dammit. _ " 

"Gotta run?" Prompto smiled, trying to mask his disappointment as Gladio pocketed his phone again. 

"Yeah. That was my old man. Looks like they've decided to move some drills ahead of schedule and…." Gladio looked at Prompto, his mouth tilting into a lopsided grin. "Nevermind, it's boring anyway. I'd much rather stay here with you." 

Warm lips found his again in a brief - almost apologetic - kiss. Prompto hummed against them. " _ Mmm.  _ I know what you mean. But I should probably get to work, too, so…." 

"I'll call you tonight?" 

"O-okay. Sure." 

"Want me to walk you back to the studio?" 

"I'll be fine," he laughed, shaking his head. "Wouldn't want you to get in trouble with the Big Boys in Blue because of me." 

Though he said nothing, Gladio's smile assured him it'd be worth it either way. "Tonight, then," he added as they both got to their feet and brushed off the bench dust. "It's a date, sunshine." 

"Can't wait," Prompto grinned. 

It was Gladio who, of the two of them, couldn't resist leaning in for one final kiss to last them the rest of the day.

* * *

"Please, please,  _ pleeeeaaaase!"  _

Aranea's mood was, unfortunately, little improved from the previous night. The only difference, Prompto realized as he stood at her door with his hands clasped together in complete and utter supplication, was that she'd run out of liquor to take the edge off. 

Glaring darkly and murderously sober, it was no small wonder everyone else in the Home was downright terrified of her. "I'm sorry, I must not have heard that right," she said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Did you just ask me for my phone again? After you, let's see _ : one,  _ failed to charge it last night like I told you;  _ two _ , used up almost an hour of my minutes taking to your stupid boyfriend;  _ three,  _ left photos of yourself in my gallery that I will  _ never _ be able to unsee." 

"Nea,  _ pleeease _ , this is important!"

" _ Four!" _ she continued, lifting her voice as she ticked off another crime on her fingers. "Woke me up in the middle of the night--" 

"B-but it's seven o'clock…."

" _ In the middle of the night _ , and you have the  _ nerve _ to ask me for my phone again?" 

Prompto shuffled from one socked foot to the other. "Y-yeah?" 

"...I like your guts, kid." Sighing, Aranea snatched her phone off of its charger and held it out for him to take. "I know a lot of people in my line of work who could use your special brand of stupid, brave, stupid courage." 

"You, um, said stupid twice." 

"Yup." Another sigh, heavy with the effort of standing upright. "Just don't stay up too late tonight. And  _ charge the damn thing this time _ , wouldja?" 

He smiled, and might have hugged her if not for the death glare she cast the second he started forward. "You got it, girl! Er, Aranea. Highwind, ma'am.  _ Sir _ . U-uuhh, O Wise and Badass One,  _ I am not worthy of your--"  _

The door slammed in front of him, and he snuck grinning back to his room before she could change her mind. 

The first thing he did was swipe open the chat window from last night. All of Gladio's texts were there, including the photo he'd sent that had set the whole thing in motion. Prompto took a few moments to appreciate it again - after all, it was a  _ damn _ good view - before slipping under the sheets of his bed and sending a series of new messages. 

_ [Hey! It's me <3 Duh lol you free?] _

Several minutes went by. He waited, giddy with excitement, until at last his texts showed they'd been  _ read _ . Another minute, and Gladio was typing a reply.

_ [ _ **_Hey sunshine. Sorry, shit came up, got stuck with the night shift. Next time?_ ** _ ] _

Oh…. Prompto's fingers hovered over the screen, temporarily paralyzed in his disappointment. That morning, Gladio had seemed so excited to make time for him. The anticipation of hearing that growling voice in his ear, of imagining those lips on him again now that he knew exactly how they really felt, had kept Prompto going through the day. Suddenly, it was as if the air had been let out of his chest, and he was deflating very much like a lead balloon. 

Well, at least he didn't have to worry about going over Aranea's minutes again. 

_ [No problem, I get it _ , _ ] _ he typed into the chat window, then dropped the phone into the pillow beside him with a defeated sigh.

At least he still had his hoodie, he thought. He'd worn it all day, even when the lights they'd used in the studio for a shoot had started to overheat. Even when Cor had suggested taking it off so he didn't get sweat on the camera. He'd rolled up the sleeves and powered on, because it meant too much to be able to keep a part of Gladio with him at all times. 

Plus, he thought with a grimace, it had been a nice distraction from everything  _ else _ he was running from.

The emptiness of his room settled around him. Boredom and loneliness weighed on his shoulders, left him restless but too unmotivated to actually get out of bed to return the phone to Aranea down the hall. There was work he could do, of course, photos that needed sorting, editing, touching up, but as the studio was closed on Sundays, he'd have the whole boring afternoon to get caught up. So in the meantime….

He turned his finger around one of the strings on his new hoodie, and got a wonderfully wicked idea. 

It didn't take much effort to set the scene. The dim light provided by his desk lamp served perfectly to cast just enough shadow for a sense of mystery. As he stripped out of his clothes, leaving nothing on but Gladio's hoodie and a secret smile, he planned out the best angle for the shot. Sitting, bare legs folded beneath him on the bed? On his side, taking a selfie from above? Or, even better, laid out on his stomach, looking into the camera from the pillow as his feet swung coyly in the air behind him. 

Yeah, that was the one. He positioned himself toward the lamp so the light would illuminate all the right parts of the scene. He bent his knees and tucked one foot around his other calf, casual yet enticing (or so he hoped, anyway). The phone was held out far enough to capture the whole scene - but just before he snapped the photo, he made one final adjustment, hiking the hoodie up just over the curve of his ass. That little flash of skin, practically glowing in contrast to the dark fabric of the hoodie, would be the focal point of the shot. 

Prompto managed to hide his smirk long enough to capture the photo, and send it, unfiltered and unedited, right to Gladio's inbox.

He giggled to himself as he rolled into his back. Hugged the phone to his chest and flushed with the thrill, the embarrassment, the  _ danger _ of it. Would Gladio check it at work? Would he respond right away, or wait to get home? Would he be angry, turned on, or both? 

Prompto figured he'd have to wait to find out, so he settled in to let his imagination carry on the momentum.  _ You trying to get my attention? _ He could almost hear Gladio's voice growling against the side of his neck.  _ Well you got it, sunshine.  _ Closing his eyes, Prompto pressed his fingers to his lips - a kiss, in lieu of the real thing. With his other hand, he imagined Gladio rubbing his hip. Slipping under the hem of his clothing to pet his naked skin and….

A chime, so close to his ear that it nearly startled him right out of the start of his fantasy. Prompto fumbled the phone until he could see the latest text on the screen. 

_ [ _ **_Fuuuck,_ ** _ ]  _ came the reply from the number he recognized as Gladio's.  _ I want you so fucking bad. _

In the dim light of his room, Prompto swallowed back a moan.

_ [Then come get me,] _ he sent back. There was no point in holding back now. He didn't think he could even if he'd wanted to. 

The reply came after a few minutes. Short, rushed, but the message was clear. [ **_Real soon baby, I promise._ ** _ ] _ Gladio wanted him, he really did. And the wait would be worth it. Eventually. 

Prompto answered him with a few flirty emojis, then once again dropped the phone to the side. His hands took up position again, playing the role of his fantasy Gladio, and touching him just as possessively as he wanted the real one to do. While his left hand teased the pleasure already swelling in the base of his cock, his right focused on his neck, his throat, his mouth. Kisses, at first, not quite as warm or soft as Gladio's actual lips, but good enough to pretend. Bold enough to leave him shivering at the thought of Gladio marking up the side of his neck, putting a lasting claim on his body for the world to see. 

Then, as his fingers neared his own lips, the scene began to shift in his mind. Suddenly, and with a jolt of excitement south, it was not Gladio's tongue circling his mouth, but his  _ cock _ . How big was the real thing, Prompto wondered with a whine. How thick, how heavy? Was it as large and solid as the rest of him? How would it taste sliding in between his lips? 

Before he realized it, he was practicing on three of his fingers as his imagination went into overdrive. He was new to this, so the Gladio of his fantasy started slow. Fucking his mouth gently, careful not to push him too soon, too fast. And yet Prompto wanted to prove himself anyway. His own cock went neglected as he focused on all the things he hoped would feel good. He wanted to see Gladio lose himself, come undone, and  _ he _ wanted to be the reason for it.

At the same time, imagining getting Gladio off in his throat was  _ doing things _ to the rest of his body.  _ New _ things. His thighs were trembling, the top of his abandoned cock was leaking against his stomach. A strange sensation of emptiness begged to be filled inside him. Prompto toyed for a moment with the idea of it. He'd seen his share of porn, of course, in the form of magazines and videos that got shared around the Home. All kinds, too, including ones that made him certain of exactly what he wanted Gladio to do to him. Though he'd never actually tried it himself, maybe, just this once….

His spit-slicked fingers found their way down between his legs before he could entertain second thoughts. They teased over his balls, across the sensitive skin of his perineum, until they reached tight muscles. And they paused. If it was Gladio, how would he do this? Would he circle the rim a few times? Prompto pinched his lip between his teeth as he tested it out. Would Gladio work one finger in slowly, or stretch him open fast? He squeezed his eyes shut as the tip of his index finger pressed into tight heat. It was…different. Not bad, but…. Again, he sucked in a breath and just went for it. In to the first knuckle, eased by his own saliva and his body's eagerness to accommodate. Then a second finger joined in, gradually until both were wiggling against tight walls and leaving his lungs burning for air.

"Oh g-gods," he moaned softly into the emptiness of his bedroom. "Gladio,  _ please. _ " Maybe he was delusional, or maybe his fantasies had taken over control, but as he bucked up into the new sensations, his lips spilled Gladio's name endlessly. A mantra of pleasure, his heart laid bare as he touched himself, spread himself, and imagined being taken by much more powerful hands. That image more than anything was what brought him to the edge, right up to the precipice until he was tumbling over into it. He came hard into his fist, his body clenching at the same time vice-like around the fingers inside himself. And all the whole, one word hung like a prayer on his voice.

" _ Gladio… _ !" 

It was incredible. His orgasm had hit him hard, stolen the breath right from his lungs, and in the aftermath of it his mind was reeling. He started up at the ceiling, at the paint chipping from cracks in the plaster, and found that despite it all, he couldn't keep a grin off his face. There was only one explanation. In his entire twenty years of life, he'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about Gladio. 

This was...love. 

Several more minutes passed while he basked in the euphoria of realization. Until, with a glance down and a horrified gasp, he bolted up and down the hall to wash the stains out of his new hoodie. 


	7. Work, Work, Work

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have. 

Prompto opened his eyes to more light streaming through his window than he was used to, and a persistent rapping of knuckles on his door.  _ Knock, knock-knock. Knock.  _ A pattern he knew well, and recognized even in his half-awake state as a (hopefully) friendly face from down the hall. 

"O-one sec," he said, scrambling up out of his bed and giving his hair a quick brush with nothing but his fingers. The knocking had stopped by the time he reached the door to open it, and yet just as he'd expected Aranea was still waiting on the other side. 

She favored him with a smirk. "Late night again?" 

"Huh?" The lights in the hall were bright, and he rubbed at his eyes to focus on her. "What time is it?" 

"Almost noon. Hope you didn't have work today."

"N-no, I don't think so…." 

"Man," Aranea laughed. "I thought  _ I _ was a mess when I woke up this morning. Anyway, buttercup. I only came by to bring you something." 

She handed him a plastic bag, not large, and when he peeked inside he was understandably wary. Aranea had never given him a gift before. This was unexpected, and considering how many favors he already owed her…. 

But then he pulled out the phone - almost identical to the one he'd been borrowing from her - and his suspicions melted away in lieu of awe. "Is this…?" 

"So you don't have to keep taking dick pics on mine. It's prepaid, just don't forget to charge it up again next month. Oh, and don't tell anyone I was the one who got that for you. You won't believe the kind of shit people start expecting when they--" 

Prompto had stopped listening. Phone still in hand, he threw his arms around Aranea's stiff shoulders and hugged her with all he was worth. "Thank you, thank you,  _ thank you!"  _

"A-ah, yeah, uh…. Don't,  _ ngk,  _ m-mention it…." 

"Oh! Let me grab yours, one sec." He returned to the door a half moment later. Aranea, still recovering from the hug, took her phone without bothering to scrutinize the charge on it, and made a point to look anywhere but at Prompto's bright, beaming smile. 

"But really. Don't mention it. To  _ anyone. _ And don't let you-know-who catch you with it, either." Now when she spoke, she lowered her voice, leaned close to make sure their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Look, I know what happened with Loqi yesterday, okay? Sounds like you made his shit list for some reason." 

At that, Prompto's face fell tellingly. "Oh. That. He's got a shit list a mile long, who  _ isn't  _ on it?" 

"I'm serious, kid. Everyone knows what happens when he's on the war path." She paused, her mouth drawing into a tight line. "You gonna be okay? He didn't...do anything to you, did he?" 

"N-no. No, it's fine. I can handle it." Forcing a smile again, Prompto waved his new phone in front of his face. "Thanks for looking out for me, though. What do I owe you for the trouble?" 

"I'll put that one on your tab," she said, shaking her head. "Just promise me something, okay? This...guy of yours. If he really makes you happy, then hang onto him. Whatever it takes, you hold him tight and don't let go for anything." 

"Nea?" 

"You deserve it, kid. Find your ticket outta this place and don't look back." 

He swallowed. Held his phone tight to his chest, and nodded in promise. A way out…. Could Gladio really be his golden ticket? 

* * *

It was a slow day for the studio. Only one shoot was scheduled for that afternoon, and it'd be a quick one - just some guy modeling some handmade jewelry for his startup store - so Prompto would have plenty of quality one-on-one time with Cor. 

Not, of course, that he was particularly looking forward to broaching the subject of a raise with his boss. It had been on his mind since his encounter with Loqi the previous morning, right between thoughts of Gladio and that gorgeous sunrise he'd managed to capture from the window of the bus on the way in. 

But while Cor was a practical, even understanding man, Prompto still wasn't sure how to bring it up.  _ My landlord's douchebag lackey is gouging me for extra rent _ , true or not, required too much explanation.  _ Could you front me this month's paycheck? _ also didn't quite sit well. What would Cor think he spent all his money on? Partying? Drugs? No, he didn't want to risk that suspicion. A lie, then, just a little one, and he'd still find a way to earn the extra pay the proper way.

"Hey, need any help with that?" He kneeled down next to the tripod Cor was adjusting, just close enough to not get in the way. 

Cool green-grey eyes remained ever focused on their work. "I'm fine here. Did you finish updating the contacts for the Hammerhead prints?" 

"Yup!" Prompto answered cheerily.

"Hm. Are all of the client files ready to put away?" 

"Already filed in ascending alphabetical order, sir." 

Cor at last turned to look at him, not without a hint of surprise on his features. "You had time to do all that  _ and _ edit the Crownsguard photos to specification?" 

Again, Prompto nodded. "Yep. I worked through lunch today. I know you're always saying not to do that, but I was almost done with the files anyway, and…. Well…." 

"Well?" 

Here it was. Moment of truth. Or, rather, an almost believable version of it. Prompto hid his nerves behind a shy smile. "Well, actually…. I've been thinking about getting my own bike, so I don't have to ride the bus so much, and, um. I guess I was wondering if there's any more work I can pick up around here? Like, something to earn a little extra cash, y'know, so I can save up for one. A bike, I mean." 

"Extra work, huh?" Cor looked him over for a long moment, his ever-stoic expression refusing to give up any clues as to whether or not he even bought the story. "I suppose, if you were willing to put in a few more hours this weekend, there is one thing. But I already turned the client down, so there's no guarantee they're still looking for a photographer." 

"I'll do it!" Prompto said, his enthusiasm jumping the gun as usual. Then, as his brain caught up with his mouth, he thought to ask for details. "Who's the client?"

"Ah. That'd be Regis Caelum." 

The blond's jaw dropped near to the floor. "Regis Caelum?! You turned down the  _ king?!" _

"Every year, he hosts that infernal gala at the Citadel, and every year he asks  _ me _ to be the event photographer. Like he doesn't know how much I hate having to be polite in the company of crowns and dignitaries.  _ Bah _ ." 

"You are talking about  _ the  _ Insomnia Ball, right?" Prompto was practically flailing with excitement, his hands moving rapidly as he spoke. "The one with all the fireworks and fancy food and limousines lined up for  _ blocks _ ? It's like a dream to get invited to that kind of party! Err, sir." 

"A nightmare is more like it. Formal tea parties with Imperials is the reason I left the Citadel in the first place, so, yeah. I turned Regis down this year. But, if you think you're up for it--" 

" _ Please _ , please pleasepleaseplease! Sir, I swear on my life - no, on my  _ camera _ \- that if you give me this chance, I won't mess this up!"

"I guess I could give Regis a call…." 

" _ Yyyesss!!  _ You won't regret this, sir! Uh." Suddenly, in the midst of his excitement, Prompto froze. This was a big deal. Like, a  _ really _ big deal. Assuming he was given the job, Cor had just said the gala was  _ this _ weekend. How would he get there? What was he going to tell Gladio? And what in the name of the Six was he going to  _ wear _ ?

"Let me make some calls. If you get the job, the money is all yours to keep. I don't accept handouts from old friends, anyway." 

* * *

Prompto leaned against the brick wall outside the studio, and sighed into the cool evening air. 

The last two hours had been a whirlwind of information to process. From accepting a very enthusiastic offer from the king's personal secretary, a man named Dustin Ackers, to scheduling pick ups, arrivals, and even introductions ( _ introductions!) _ at the Citadel. Someone from the Crownsguard, Dustin explained, would meet him outside the photo studio at five pm, and help to load any equipment he needed into a chauffeured car. Once he was brought to the palace, he'd be taken through security and given a quick tour of the event hall. As it was fairly short notice, they regretted to inform him they couldn't guarantee him a seat during the banquet, but Prompto simply replied he'd prefer to be moving about with his camera anyway. 

_ Then _ Dustin told how much they were offering to pay.

Thus, it was settled. Gil signs still flashing on his mind, Prompto agreed to sign the contract the next day, and Cor sent him home early to prepare. Five days - that's how long he had until the gala, with excitement fit to burst in his chest. He couldn't wait to tell Aranea. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face, or hear the barely concealed pride in her voice when she teased him about working too much again. 

He couldn't wait to tell Gladio, either. 

Something had struck him during the conversation with Dustin, but he'd been too distracted until now to give it much thought.  _ "We'll send a car,"  _ he'd said. " _ Someone from the Crownsguard will pick you up."  _ It made perfect sense, of course. The Guard was the Citadel's security detail as well as its front line outside the palace. Even the king's closest advisors and secretaries were enlisted members. So while meeting a photographer across town might seem more like an errand than a mission, it was still in the king's best interest to play it safe. 

And there was a chance - however small - that Gladio might be the one assigned to come for him. 

With that thought ramping up the butterflies in his stomach, Prompto once again reached for the new phone in his pocket. He was still getting used to the controls. It was a different OS from the one he'd borrowed from Aranea, but he managed to pull up the chat window easily. His message from that morning was still there - [ _ hey it's me :) I got a new number and I miss you :)))) ] -  _ with no reply yet from the other end. Hmm. Maybe Gladio was working an extra shift again? Or he might be catching up on rest after pulling an all nighter. At least, Prompto hoped as much. He didn't think he could handle Gladio outright ignoring him. 

_ [Me again,] _ he typed with a winking emoji.  _ [I've got something exciting to tell you. Text me back?] _

Then, frowning, he deleted the last part, and sent the rest. After all, if Gladio  _ was _ intentionally avoiding him, he certainly didn't want to make it worse by being too clingy. 

Another sigh as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. He'd have to be patient and wait for a reply, but in the meantime, he had plenty of work to do to get ready for the big night. 

* * *

The dream was abstract, fevered. Surreal. The kind he knew right from the start was a dream, and yet he could still do nothing about it. Only follow along as it spun him, twisted him around, left him breathing heavily even in his sleep. 

It started in his old home, in a room he hadn't seen in more than ten years. 

_ The window is open. That in itself is strange; his parents never let him leave the window open, no matter how much he loves falling asleep to the sound of rain. If they find it like this, they'll be angry, he thinks. So he gets up to close it. He can feel the carpet as his toes sink into it. Cool, soft. Like grass, and suddenly his bedroom is a meadow, empty beneath a cloudy sky.  _

_ Prompto reaches the window anyway. Beyond, where he expects to see the neighbor's house, the quiet street beyond, he's surprised to see a kitchen. He must be outside then, looking in. Kicked out of his home? Where are his parents? Will they be angry if he goes back inside?  _

_ Climbing through the open window, Prompto feels suddenly cold. Ice cold, as if the house itself is devoid of heat, of life. Dead. Panic seeps into his blood. Mom? He tries to call out, but his voice is no more than a whisper. Dad? This can't be happening. Not again. _

_ Memories bleed together. The kitchen opens not into a living room, but a photo studio. There are lights everywhere, pointed at him, and thick shadows clinging to the space beyond them. He can't see past, it's too dark. He can't see, but he can  _ sense _ something moving there. Cor? Sir? _

_ " _ **_Argentum_ ** _ ," a voice sing-songs out of the shadow. " _ **_Where are you hurrying off to?_ ** _ "  _

_ Prompto runs. He's panting now, frightened and terribly lost. Alone except for the thing chasing him now, through this house he can't remember with rooms that shouldn't be.  _

_ Nea? Gladio? Anyone?!  _

_ No good. The shadows are growing, swarming around him now as they slither up walls, blot out the ceiling. The very air is growing thick with his own fear, his legs slowing, slowing, swallowed up in the sea of darkness. This, he thinks, as panic drags him under, isn't how he wanted it to end…!  _

_ Then, out of the nothingness surrounding him, a chime.  _

_ He opens his eyes, in the dream and in reality....  _

The chime came a second time, more tangible in the otherwise silence of his bedroom. Beside him on the pillow, his phone screen blinked with two new messages. On, off, on again, a beacon calling him out of the world of nightmares to suck in a shuddering breath. 

Shakily, Prompto reached over to swipe the screen. His eyes adjusted slowly, but even through his groggy daze he could read the name across the top. 

_ Gladio.  _

Suddenly, he was back in the moment. Abstract fears, coiling shadows, all were pushed aside to make room for a different kind of emotion. 

_ [ _ **_Hey sunshine. I miss you too_ ** _ ,]  _ read the first message sent at 1:37 am.

_ [ _ **_You're probably sleeping, but I want you to know I've been thinking about you all day. Sorry to text late but you're always on my mind._ ** _ ]  _

His heart skipped a beat in his chest. Rubbing his eyes, Prompto rolled onto his back with his phone and carefully typed out a reply.

_ [Good timing. I was having a bad dream.]  _

No need to go into details. They were growing fuzzy anyway, thankfully, though his heart was still racing a mile a minute. The tears that had begun to sting at the backs of his eyes, threatening to spill forth at a moment's notice, dried up in the screen’s light that glowed a few inches from his face.

Gladio was typing something, so Prompto concentrated on timing his breathing with the little dots hovering at the bottom of the chat. 

_ [ _ **_Yeah? Wish I was there to take care of you_ ** _ ,] _ Gladio's message at last came in.  _ [ _ **_Need to talk about it?_ ** _ ]  _

_ [Nah I'm ok,] _ Prompto wrote back. He thought, for the most part, he was. 

_ [ _ **_You sure? I'm all ears baby._ ** _ ] _

Despite himself, he smiled at that.  _ [All ears? What are you typing with then?]  _

_ [ _ **_…. you wanna see? ;)_ ** _ ] _

The darkness faded, the air grew lighter. Prompto smiled through a yawn as sleep called back to him. He might have replied with a  _ yes _ , or some combination of letters to a similar effect. But when he would awake again refreshed in the morning, it would be to the glorious sight of Gladio's dick looking impressive even in his own large fist, and three simple words below the pic.

_ [ _ **_All for you._ ** _ ] _


	8. Bippity-boppity-boo

Prompto couldn't remember the last time he'd been inside a mall. His parents had never liked them. Too noisy, too full of carefree people and pointless things to buy, they'd always said.  _ 'The epitome of vapid consumerism.' _

That had been when they were alive, of course. Personally, Prompto had nothing against malls himself. He thought they were sort of dreamy. What could be better than spending a day laughing, eating, and shopping with friends? About letting go of worries for a few hours in the name of having  _ fun _ ?

Well, at least in theory. In actuality, he was finding his first experience at Insomnia’s Starlight Mall...less than underwhelming. 

For one thing, Aranea may be the closest thing he had to a friend, but she was  _ not _ in the mood for any laughing of any sort. She had only agreed to join him on her "precious day off" anyway because he'd literally begged her until she’d caved in. And, of course, only on the condition that he had to do whatever she asked for the rest of the week. 

Secondly, Prompto was learning first hand that malls were  _ expensive _ . 

The shirt he was holding, a deep red button up with grey accents on the collar, had come off the clearance rack, but even then it cost way more than the few gil he had in his wallet. Which was really a shame because it looked exactly like the kind of trendy-yet-professional thing one wore to a personal invitation to the biggest party in town. 

Aranea watched him admire the shirt in his hands for a long moment. "Well…? Are you gonna try it on or not?" 

"Hm? Oh, um, I don't know. I think I should keep my options open, y'know." He started to put it back on the rack, but hesitated. It really was a damn good shirt. 

"Look," Aranea sighed. "The fitting rooms are right there, just give it a shot. You've had your options open for two hours now, and still haven't found a single thing you like." 

That wasn't exactly true, he thought to himself, once again clutching the shirt tight. Maybe she was right, though. Even if he couldn't actually afford anything, it could be fun just to see. 

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But no promises." 

He stepped into the narrow fitting room and closed the curtain behind him. There was a hook to hang the clothes on, and a mirror that went all the way down to the floor on one wall. Prompto paused to appraise himself in it. After all, it had been a while since he'd come face to face with more of himself than he could see in the grubby bathroom mirrors at the Home. The first thing he noticed was that he'd lost weight again. His hips were narrower, his shoulders more drawn than he remembered. And his hoodie - the one Gladio had given him - hung from his frame like a potato sack. 

At the sight, he had to struggle to keep from recoiling. 

"Better get this over with fast." He pulled the hoodie up over his head, then his t-shirt, leaving himself bare to the waist. Quickly, avoiding the mirror, he took the red shirt off of its hanger and carefully slid his arms through the sleeves. They fit almost perfectly, the cuffs ending right at his wrist and hugging his arms. He risked a glance up. Still unbuttoned, the collar of the shirt hung open around his neck, exposing a line of skin right down from his throat to his navel above the top of his jeans. The fabric hugged his form, curved delicately around his waist and hips and gave his body an almost tapered shape. It hid his thin upper arms, and the rib bones he was so self conscious of. It made him look… _ good _ . 

In the mirror, his reflection swallowed, hard. Aranea was waiting for him outside, he hadn't forgotten, but suddenly a more pressing idea had caught and was holding his attention. It would only take a second….

The phone was in his hand before he could change his mind. There was no time to worry about lighting or the more technical aspects of the shot. Instead, he snapped a few rapid pics of himself in the mirror - standing, posing, one where he was holding the shirt ever so slightly open with his free hand. That was the one he sent in the end. Even knowing Gladio was probably busy at work, even knowing he wouldn't be able to get the shirt no matter how much he liked it, he couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little stupid fun while it lasted. 

He _ was _ at the mall, after all.

With a wistful smile, he changed back into his own clothes and carried the shirt back out into the shop where Aranea was waiting. She was stretched out across two chairs, looking bored as she flipped through a women's lingerie catalog. When she caught sight of Prompto, back in his usual hoodie and decidedly  _ not _ dressed to kill, she groaned up at the ceiling. "We're going to be here forever, aren't we."

"Sorry," he shrugged, and tossed the absolutely perfect shirt into a bin beside the fitting room. "It just wasn't my style." 

In the end, Prompto decided to trade the pomp and new-credit-card smell of the mall for the thrift store where he usually bought his clothes. It wasn't far from the Home, and since he felt guilty about already wasting half of Aranea's day, he told her he could finish shopping on his own. She reluctantly agreed. Made him promise, under pain of endless wedgies, that he'd at least send her pics, and headed back alone to take a much needed nap. 

That left Prompto free to spend his afternoon as leisurely as he pleased. After trying on several more combinations of outfits at the thrift store (and snapping a few selfies in various states of undress), he finally decided on a simple black suit that fit him well enough. The sleeves were a little short, and the pants were too baggy, but it didn't have any noticeable stains or holes. It looked...decent, and for the price he was willing to live with the imperfections. 

Besides, he figured if the gala started late enough, it'd be too dark to notice anyway. 

At any rate, and without any other options, he sent the (fully dressed) selfies he'd taken to Aranea before lugging his new purchases onto the bus home. 

* * *

Around ten o’clock that night was when Prompto made up his mind that he simply couldn’t do it. No way, it was too much pressure just  _ thinking _ about how he could possibly manage to pull this off. The job itself was way over his head. What had Cor been thinking, even suggesting him for the part? Photographing the king - the  _ king?! _ He was bound to screw it up. 

The other problem, the one he’d been putting off the whole week, was breaking the news to Gladio. Prompto had wanted to tell him about the assignment, honestly. He thought maybe Gladio would be happy for him, or proud even that he’d snagged such a sweet gig. But whenever he’d tried to bring up the subject, Gladio always seemed to be too busy. 

That was what his messages implied, anyway.  _ Sorry, can’t talk tonight _ ; or,  _ Gotta run, catch you later. _ Sometimes he didn’t reply to Prompto’s texts at all, merely left them on  _ read _ for hours at a time. And it was starting to get under his skin. 

Of course, he wanted to believe maybe Gladio really was swamped at work. But it seemed almost too convenient of an excuse to always dip out of a conversation. Had Prompto done something wrong? Had he somehow messed things up before they even got a chance to really get going? Worried that his messages were somehow bothering Gladio, he’d mostly stopped sending them altogether. But all the free time to think didn’t help much with his panic about the upcoming gala,  _ or  _ how laughably unprepared for it he was.

So he’d made up his mind. First thing in the morning, he’d go down to the studio to turn down the assignment. He’d apologize to Cor and, if he was lucky enough to still keep his job at all, he’d ask to help out in some other, less high-stakes kind of way. All he needed was enough money to pay his rent. Surely he could do that without risking embarrassing himself on a royal scale. 

A final check to his phone - no new messages from Gladio or otherwise - before he sighed and flopped down on his bed. Too much was happening at once. How had he gotten himself into all of this mess? 

_ Knock. Knock-knock, knock.  _ Knuckles rapping the familiar pattern broke through his dark thoughts. Prompto sat up on the edge of the mattress just as Aranea poked her head around the door. “Hey, you decent in here?” 

Prompto rubbed at the emotion stinging in his eyes. “Y-yeah, it’s fine, come on in.” 

“I’m surprised you’re not in here talking to your boytoy. Or, y’know, whatever it is you two do late at night.” The amusement in her voice died the moment she caught sight of the redness around Prompto’s eyes, and the weak smile he offered in return. Aranea dropped the bag she’d been carrying onto the desk and folded her arms. “What’s got you in a funk, kid?” 

“I’m not going tomorrow. I’m calling it off.” 

“What?” Her eyes widened in genuine shock. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden? You were so excited today!” 

“I know,” Prompto shrugged. “It’s just that...I dunno. What’s the point? I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never been  _ anywhere _ as fancy as the Citadel, and I feel like...I won’t fit in.” 

“Chocobo shit. You’re ten times the person any of those hoity-toity royalty types are.” 

“I’m serious, Nea.”

“So am I.” The toe of her boot tapped sharply against the side of his bare foot. “I’ve said it before, but you don’t give yourself enough credit. Sure, you and me, we might be stuck in this shithole right now, but this isn’t who we  _ are _ . Don’t let these walls make you think you’re any less worthy than someone who got to be born in a palace.”

Prompto sighed. He knew she was right, and on any other day he might have found the speech more inspiring. But her words didn’t change the fact that he was going to stand out at the gala like a sore thumb in his thrift store rags. 

“Thanks for trying, but I’m just not ready.” 

“Uh-huh. Think this might help?” 

For the first time, Prompto actually got a look at the bag Aranea had brought into the room. It was tall and nondescript, but it looked suspiciously like a crisp new shopping bag. She slid it across the desk for him to reach out and peek inside. 

“What’s this?”

“You’re super easy to read, kid. I knew you were lying when we were at that store today.  _ ‘Not my style _ ’ my ass.” She waited for him to reach into the bag, to pull out the shirt he’d fallen in love with at the mall. As he held it up, looking from the shirt to Aranea in disbelief, she winked at him. “I already know you'll look great in it.” 

“How did--? But I can’t afford--!” 

“Consider it added to your tab. Just get your butt up out of bed and put it on already.” 

Not knowing how else to react, Prompto tossed aside the top he’d been wearing and slid his arms through the sleeves of the dress shirt. It felt even better now than it had at the store, smooth fabric on his skin, hugging him in all the right places. It was like a dream come true. How much trouble had Aranea gone to for this? How was he ever, in a single lifetime, going to pay her back for everything she’d done? 

“See, fits you like a million gil. Everyone at that party tomorrow is gonna have their eyes on you.” She stood in front of him, looking him over for a moment, before loosening the top button at the collar of the shirt. And she winked. “There. Good enough to show off to your hunk of a boyfriend, I think.”

“Nea….” 

“Stop it. Don’t get all sappy on me now. You’ll make me regret being nice to you.”

Through a thin film of tears, he managed a grin. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re a good person or anything.” 

“Exactly. Now.” A tap of a black-tipped nail to her bottom lip as she looked him over from head to toe. “You’d better let me try out some eyeliner on you. I’ve got some foundation that might work, too, and we’ll have to do something with the poor chocobo that died on your head.” 

“You’re the best, Nea.”

“I am, aren’t I? Come on, it’s time to work a little more of my magic.” 


	9. At the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With art by Lynxrider! 'Fireworks Kiss'

A black car, nondescript and with windows tinted to match the dark grey of the hubcaps, passed through the front gates and into the courtyard of the Citadel. It rolled slowly to a stop at the curb, where a long red carpet led up to the royal palace's main entrance. 

Prompto had never seen it up close before. Growing up in Insomnia, the Citadel had always seemed a distant, looming building, tall enough to rise above the rest of the city and watch its residents bustling about far below. The king lived there, Prompto knew, as had his only son up until a few years ago. The prince was rumored to have moved out because, according to the tabloids, he hated all the pomp and grandeur of events like this one. 

For an outsider experiencing it all for the first time, it was hard to understand where Prince Noctis was coming from. What _wasn't_ to love about the excitement, the energy, the _majesty_ of everything around him? There was festive music filling the courtyard, and decorative banners hanging from the ramparts of the impressively massive towers of the palace. Workers moved about carrying flowers, dishes, chairs strung with ribbons and silk. Even the sunset seemed to be turning up for the event, painting the early evening sky in shades of pink and violet that reflected off the Citadel's windows with shimmering brilliance. 

Prompto had his camera in hand before his window even started rolling down. 

_Click, click-click._

"Hey." 

_Clickclickclickcli-_

"Hey, kid. You wanna maybe wait 'til you're out of my car to start doing that?" In the front seat, the driver had turned around to favor him with an amused smirk over his shoulder. _Nyx,_ he'd said was his name, and Prompto had instantly liked him. Friendly, like Gladio, but still intimidating in his full uniform: head to toe black leathers, heavy boots, and not to mention the variety of knives strapped in plain sight to his thighs. He'd cut an impressive figure standing outside Leonis studios like some kind of secret service with a penchant for kidnapping photographers. But one smile, as disarming as the rest of him was fierce, and Prompto had immediately let down his guard. 

Now, Nyx was looking past him to the entrance of the Citadel, and gestured with his chin. "First time here, right? Just head through those doors and up the staircase. They'll check your ID at the top. You still got that badge I gave you?" 

Prompto held up the small plastic card that hung from a lanyard around his neck. "Yep! Safe and sound, right here." 

"Great. Just show them that, and don't let them mistake you for press. You good?" 

"I think so." As the back doors unlocked at the flip of a switch, Prompto started out, then stopped. He faced Nyx again wearing a shy smile. "U-um. Can I ask you something? Are _all_ the Crownsguard here tonight? On duty, I mean." 

"Not everyone, no. We've got patrols running the city, and some losers are stuck with guard duty at the Wall. I think Scientia's babysitting the prince, since he refuses to come to these things anymore." Nyx chuckled as if at an inside joke. "Why do you ask, kid? You planning on getting into trouble?"

"No," he laughed. "It's just that…. There's, um. Well, one of my friends is…." 

Sharp grey eyes perked up in interest. "Oh? Come to think of it…. Blond, freckles, big ass camera. You wouldn't happen to be _that_ Prompto, would you?" 

Surprise coloring his cheeks was the only answer he could manage, but apparently it was enough. Nyx looked as excited as a spoiled child on Solstice morning. 

"You are, aren't you! I know a certain idiot who hasn't shut up about you for days. Hmm," he added, looking Prompto over with newfound interest. "He's got good taste."

"O-oh! Um. T-thank you. T-then…?" 

"Yeah, Amicitia's here somewhere. Good luck finding him, although I guess a guy like that isn't too hard to spot in a crowd."

Again, Nyx laughed to himself as Prompto, thoroughly embarrassed but filled with hope, thanked him and quickly stepped out of the car. He had a job to do, after all. Finding Gladio would just be part of the fun. 

The first of the guests started to arrive not long after Prompto did. Dignitaries, socialites, a few faces even he could recognize as Very Important People around Lucis and beyond. There was Luna and Ravus Nox Fleuret, nobles from Tenebrae who were probably more well-known for their fashion line than their politics; the former advisor to the King, Weskham Armaugh, and Mayor Camelia Claustra from the autonomous Accordan nation of Altissia; representatives from Duscae, Cleigne, and even Galahd were in attendance, and all of them lined up for a red carpet photo by the excitable blond kid with the oversized camera.

Photographing the guests kept Prompto busy for nearly the first hour of the gala. By the time the last of the latecomers had finished trickling in, Prompto could already hear music coming from the banquet hall on the mezzanine floor above. He checked his memory card storage, and made for the stairs. 

A sudden shadow stepped into his path from an alcove to the left. Broad shoulders beneath a dark uniform; sharp eyes under thick, knotted eyebrows. Startled, Prompto backpedaled as far as the hand reaching out for him allowed.

"Prom?" 

Gladio was looking down at him in a mixture of disbelief and awe. Trying to judge, from the way his eyes darted over his frame as fast as his brain could process, if the figure standing in front of him was some kind of fairy tale come to life. He swallowed hard, then tried again. "You look... _incredible_. But what are you doing here?"

"Hey, um. Surprise?" he smiled as he replied - and something else very warm and very tingly - spread through him right down to his toes. "I tried to tell you yesterday. I'm covering for Cor, they asked me to photograph the event tonight." 

"Incredible," was all he repeated. Amber eyes trailed over the sight of Prompto's throat, down to his chest where the shirt Aranea had gifted him fit like a glove. Further even, not the least bit subtle as he ogled Prompto like a three page spread. 

It was flattering, but he was well aware they still had to be professional. Both of them were working, after all, and Prompto had promised not to blow this chance. He offered Gladio an apologetic smile. "It's nice to see you too, big guy. I was getting worried when you didn't text, but now I guess I know why you were so busy." 

"I can't believe you're here," came the reply, Galdio's voice still soft with awe. "It's like something out of a dream." 

It was. Truly. Being here in the Citadel, wearing these expensive clothes, the warmth of Gladio's hand on his arm, holding him as if he'd forgotten how to ever let go. With a laugh, Prompto held his camera up between them, tilting the screen up for them to see. "Look. I got to meet Lady Lunafreya. Talk about fairy tales, right? She's basically like a real princess." 

The fingers on his arm moved higher, stroked over his shoulder and then down the length of his back, coming to rest somewhere above the hem of his new pants. "No kidding? I guess she's one of the good ones, yeah. Her brother, on the other hand…. Well, it doesn't matter. You're here. Now I've got something to look forward to all night." 

His thumb brushed over the small of Prompto's back, and the blond felt it right down to his toes. "O-oh? What's that?" 

"Getting you all to myself every damn chance I get." No one was looking…probably. It didn't really matter, anyway, not with how quickly Gladio tugged him back into the alcove where he'd been standing watch, or how breathless Prompto felt when they kissed. Maybe it only lasted a few seconds, or maybe a minute or more. By the time warm (so, _so warm_ ) lips pulled away again, his heart was racing in his chest. It left him dizzy, wanting nothing more than to cling to Gladio's jacket and get swallowed up in his arms for the rest of the evening. And maybe, later at least, they could. 

But at that moment, the music drifting down from the banquet hall faded to a stop, and Prompto could hear applause rising up to take its place. The king would probably be taking the stage soon to give his speech. 

Gladio squeezed his hip. "Better get up there, baby. This is your big shot."

"U-uh, mmm." 

"I'll find you again. Promise." Another kiss, this time pressed to the hairline at his temple. Gladio released Prompto to step, albeit unsteadily, out of the alcove. Then he was back on duty, his shoulders rigid and his smile disguised under a stern gaze. 

Prompto, meanwhile, was still finding it hard to catch his breath. He blinked a few times, knowing his cheeks must have been burning under the dark speckling of freckles across them. His new pants felt uncomfortably tight thanks to the lips he could still taste on his own, and his fingers were sweaty around the frame of his camera. Reluctant, he waved to Gladio as he turned to climb the stairs on wobbling knees. 

The guards at the doors checked his pass, and allowed him to enter the banquet hall. It was huge, filled with dozens of tables each surrounded by guests in glamorous tuxes and gowns. Each table that Prompto could see was topped with a white cloth, expensive-looking dishes, and an elegant flower arrangement to add bursts of color to the otherwise monochromatic decorations. All the seats around the tables were turned to face the stage, where a tall man in black robes was waving to calm the applause. 

Prompto readied his camera and slunk along the wall to his left. Each step brought him closer and closer to the stage, but he was careful to stay far enough out of sight so as not to block anyone's view. The trick to being a good photographer, Cor had taught him, was to stay unseen behind the camera, to move quietly, stealthily, not unlike a sniper lining up a shot. Military training was what made the legendary "Immortal" as skilled a photographer as he was a soldier, and Prompto had learned from the best. 

Near the bottom of the stage, he had a clear view of the king accepting a microphone from his assistant. Regis greeted the crowd with a smile and a clear voice far more vibrant than his greying hair and cane might suggest. "Good evening, my friends. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining us for tonight's gala. No doubt most of you are here for the shrimp and cocktails," he paused for a scattering of laughter from the audience. "But before dinner is served, I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the hard work that went into tonight's event. Clarus, would you please--"

The king covered the microphone with his palm as he turned to address someone off stage. At his cue, a tall man with buzzed hair and a stem, oddly familiar expression, appeared from behind the gilded curtains. He wore a uniform similar to Gladio's, but more formal, with a dark grey cape draped over one arm and badges decorating his left breast. Regis nodded congenially to him before once again taking up the microphone. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, my dearest friend - without whom these parties of mine would never be possible - General Clarus Amicitia!" 

Applause went up around the hall, but between Prompto's ears a panicked surge of realization had his eyes flying open wide. _Amicitia?_ Then that man on the stage had to be…!

"Thank you, Your Majesty. It's all part of the job," the man, Clarus, who had almost the same deep baritone and mannerisms as Gladio, grinned. "So long as you keep paying me, of course." 

More laughter from the audience while Prompto gaped at the pair on stage. No doubt about it; that was definitely Gladio's father. He seemed like a proud man, his back straight and pose rigid even as he joked and chatted with the king on stage. What would a man like him, a man of such distinction, think of his son dating a nobody like Prompto? How could anyone expect him to approve? Prompto didn't belong in this world of fancy restaurants, parties, and tuxedos any more than he'd belonged in Gralea. 

He suddenly felt quite staggeringly out of his element -- _and_ his league. 

Yet regardless of the storm of anxiety building pressure in his chest, his fingers still worked on autopilot. He managed to snap a handful of photos of Regis and Clarus together on stage before it was time for dinner to begin. On cue, dozens of carts were rolled into the banquet hall from both sides, each one carrying trays and platters of every kind of dish imaginable. There were soups, salads, plates of fish both grilled and sliced raw; steaks drenched in sweet-smelling sauces, vegetable stir fries and noodles, as well; dishes Prompto couldn't even begin to describe were wheeled past him, and he pressed himself to the wall as far out if the way as he could.

It was while he was frozen there that a familiar, welcome face appeared in his line of sight. Along with several other uniformed guards, Gladio had just quietly entered the hall and swung closed the large doors. While his shoulders were rigid in his duty, his eyes were subtly scanning the room until, finally, he caught sight of the tuft of blond he'd been searching for. 

With practiced stealth, he made his way past the rows of tables that stood between them. "Hey," he whispered once he was close enough, and brushed his hand against Prompto's. "How'd the opening speech go?" 

Blue eyes blinked a few times. "G-good. I think the guy up there with the king might have been your dad." 

Gladio nodded. "Yeah, probably. They do this ridiculous bit every year, usually lame old guy jokes that everyone pretends to laugh at to keep them happy. Did you get a chance to meet him yet?" 

There was no time to shake his head, or to tell Gladio that he couldn't possibly ever present himself to a man like Clarus Amicitia for fear of dying on the spot. At precisely that moment, a polite but commanding woman took the stage to ask all guests to be seated for a toast. Prompto cast Gladio a panicked look. What was he supposed to do? He hadn't been briefed on this part. 

Gladio merely cleared his throat. "Allow me to escort you to your table, sir," he winked, and Prompto was helpless to do anything but take hold of the elbow offered to him. They made their way together to a table near the back of the hall, next to the drink bar, and to an open seat reserved for "Leonis Studios." Gladio even went as far as to pull the chair out for him, before switching posts with a guard who was only a few feet away.

The rest of the meal was a whirlwind of fancy food, polite conversation, and Prompto's first experience with champagne. Probably too much of it, he realized as a server arrived to refill his glass for the third time. At least everyone else at his table seemed to be drinking at about the same pace, which helped to put him at ease as the night went on. Throughout it all, he made sure to get photos of the dishes as they came out, and candid shots of the guests locked in conversation. And, of course, he made sure to keep an eye on Gladio wherever he and his camera went. 

It was around the time that emptied plates were being taken up, when the chatter in the air had quieted to a low din, that they found their chance again. Prompto caught sight of honeyed eyes watching him from near the back doors. Saw the subtle way Gladio tilted his chin toward them, as if to say _go this way_. He politely excused himself from the table, already beginning to tingle with a sense of anticipation. 

Sure enough, Gladio had already slipped through the exit ahead of him, likely to avoid drawing the attention of the other guards. There was a thrill in knowing they could both get in trouble for this - for shirking their duties, for sneaking around on Citadel grounds. It was terrifying, too, but that fact only served to quicken the beating of his heart in his chest. If someone found them, if _Clarus Amicitia_ found them….

" _Psst_." It was hard for Gladio, with his broad shoulders and distinctive uniform, not to stand out, but luckily no one else was around when he peeked his head out from a door to the left. Prompto noticed it led to a staff stairwell. "In here, Prom." 

He clutched his camera, and accepted Gladio's hand as he was pulled through the door. 

Large arms surrounded him in a heartbeat. Gladio's scent, his warmth, his voice embraced him completely, until with a sigh of relief Prompto melted into the hug. 

"You have no idea how hard it's been keeping my hands off you all night." As he spoke, Gladio slid his hands down the length of Prompto's body, ending with his fingers squeezing the mounds of his ass enough to take his breath away. "Watching you move around out there, watching you smile…. _Gods,_ Prom, I want you _bad._ " 

“Me, too,” he admitted into the soft lapel of Gladio’s jacket. “We’re still at the party, you know,” he reminded them both - mostly himself. “They’ll figure out we’re missing.”

“Yeah, well. Who cares, so long as we’re still working?”

Prompto didn’t understand. He looked up at Gladio, into those deep, mesmerizing honey pools, and tried not to laugh. “Is that what we’re doing here? ‘Working’?” 

“It is. Get your camera ready, babe. Let’s go.” 

Gladio didn’t leave room for protest even if he’d wanted to. Taking him by the hand, he began the long hike up the stairs. Three flights, four, five…. Prompto was starting to huff with each step, losing count of how high they climbed as he tried to keep up with Gladio’s pace. 

Eventually - and much to his winded relief - they finally reached a floor with an exit, and came to a stop in front of the very solid door there. Gladio used a key from his uniform pocket to disarm the emergency lock, then pushed it open for Prompto to pass through first. 

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” he chuckled as the blond slipped under his outstretched arm. But Prompto didn’t respond. He was too busy taking in the incredible view that spread out before him, spilling out from the railing of the small balcony Gladio had brought him to. Below, far, far below, the city of Insomnia was aglow with lights. Streetlights, windows, cars and people all moving about like tiny stars navigating the metropolis. He could see nearly everything from up here -- there was downtown, where Cor’s studio would be, and nearby was the Maagho where Gladio had taken him to lunch the week before. Over there was the mall, and past that, if he looked hard enough, he could almost make out the neighborhood where he used to live with his mother and father, and…. 

“You alright?” 

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been neglecting. It was cold so high up, and as he turned to smile at Gladio behind him, he hugged his arms around his chest against the chill. “I-it’s amazing. I can see the whole city from up here.” 

“Yeah, pretty neat, huh?” Sidling up next to him, Gladio wrapped one arm around his shoulders to help block the wind. “This is one of Noct’s favorite places, too. He used to come up here when he was a kid to get away from his lessons, or escape training with my dad. I guess...I understand how he felt. Sometimes, when you want something so badly, you’ve got to find a place to have it all to yourself. Take a look down there, Prom.” 

He followed Gladio’s finger to an open garden on the roof of one of the Citadel’s palisades. There, guests from the banquet hall were arriving in pairs, or in groups, laughing and chatting over more of the champagne from the banquet hall. Prompto shook his head in disbelief. 

“How did you know they’d be--?”

“These things always end like this. Never let it be said that Regis doesn’t know how to throw a damn good party.” With a smile, Gladio led Prompto closer to the railing, where he was able to angle his camera for a bird’s eye view of the event. “This is your big shot, right? I wanted to make sure you’d have the best seat in the house for the main event.” 

“Oh?” Prompto grinned against the viewfinder pressed to his cheek. “And what’s that?”

But Gladio never answered. He didn’t have to. No sooner had the words left Prompto’s lips than the first of the evening’s fireworks was launched up into the sky from somewhere below. It whistled as it climbed up, up, rocket-like just above where the two of them stood. And then with a burst of light and thunder, it exploded into a beautiful sphere of glimmering color. 

Prompto watched the sparkles flicker and fade as they fell through the sky like so much star dust. “Oh...em... _gee._ I’ve never seen…. I mean, that was so close! Gladio, how did--?”

“Shh. Let’s just watch, yeah?” 

Another series of fireworks was launched overhead. Gladio settled down on the balcony with his back resting against the palace’s outer wall. He helped Prompto get comfortable in his lap, made sure he had enough room to move his camera with each explosion of light. Kissed his neck, his hair, the rim of his ear while together they hummed at the splendor of the almost-private show. 

Gradually, Prompto lowered his camera. He tugged the strap over his head, and set it carefully off to the side. With the fireworks bursting all around, casting the balcony in alternating shades of rainbow and shadows, he turned in Gladio’s arms until he could face him fully. His blue eyes were bright, wet with unshed tears. “I’m so glad I met you. Thank you. For this, for everything.” 

Large fingers tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Anything for you, Prom.” 

“I….” He paused. Bit his lip. How could he put words to this...this feeling? It was too much, and too perfect. “I never want this to end,” he said truthfully, and hoped that would be enough for Gladio to hear the tidal waves of emotion filling his heart as full to burst as the explosions of light above their heads. 

Luckily for him, it worked. “We don't have to let it.” 

"What do you mean?" 

"Let's get out of here. Just the two of us."

"Won't someone notice? I mean, you'll get in big trouble if--"

"Already taken care of, baby." Gladio punctuated that with a kiss. "Nyx is covering my shift for the rest of the night. My father will be out drinking until morning. And my sister is staying with her friends for the weekend, which means…." 

Swallowing, Prompto arrived at the same conclusion before Gladio ever had to finish his thought. "We could…go back to your place. Alone." 

"Mmhmm _._ " 

"And, um. We could…do whatever we wanted." 

Warm lips traveling down to the side of his neck confirmed they were both on the same wavelength. "Whaddya say? Come home with me tonight?" 

It was perhaps the easiest decision Prompto had ever made in his life. 


	10. At the Stroke of Twelve

Descending the steps of the Citadel, the open night air felt and tasted like freedom. Prompto laughed as he let Gladio’s arms lift him off the sidewalk, spin him around as if in a ballroom dance. Except this dance led them away from the ball. Away from the music, the guests, the fireworks still exploding far above their heads. 

Following their feet to a different kind of rhythm now, they swayed together over the pavement. Worn sneakers scuffed the concrete, unsteady steps distracted by warm fingers and warmer lips. As they moved, they kissed, they smiled, they stopped every so often when the distance became too much to bear. Until, pressed against a street lamp, Prompto was left shivering from more than the evening chill. He rocked his body forward, into the pressure of the palm rubbing his erection through his new pants, and begged Gladio  _ please.  _

Eventually, they made it the few blocks to their destination. Eventually, Gladio found his house keys and, with Prompto still hanging from his lips, let them both into the otherwise empty manor. 

It was  _ huge.  _ Even distracted as he was, Prompto noticed that right away. There were soft lights on in a kitchen beyond the main foyer, illuminating the parlor, the staircase, the heavy artworks framed on the walls. He felt Gladio’s tongue swipe his lips, and turned his attention back to the moment. 

Toeing off his sneakers, he couldn’t help but hum at the way luscious carpet reached up to caress the soles of his feet. Gladio’s hand on his lower back guided them across the room, past tables and lamps, to a long, flat sofa. There, he was lifted up once again to be deposited in the soft cushions. But if he thought Gladio was going down with him, he was sorely disappointed. 

“Wait for me here, babe. You want a drink or anything.” 

Prompto blinked up in the dim light. Through the haze of passion, he watched Gladio strip off his uniform piece by piece. “Where are you…?”

“Gonna freshen up.” Draping his jacket and vest over one arm, Gladio leaned in to plant another deep, promise-filled kiss on reddened lips. “Trust me, this old leather gets hot, and…. Well, help yourself to the fridge. I’ll be back before you even miss me.” 

“I already miss you.” 

Teeth flashed in a grin, then he was gone, slipping back around the corner to the hallway where they’d entered. Prompto could hear feet hurrying up the stairs, and blew a dislodged lock of hair out of his face with a sigh. Oh, well. At least it would give him a chance to explore while he waited. 

His camera still hung from his neck, so he took it off now. He set it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and pushed himself (a little unsteadily) to his feet. The house was so spacious and so clean, it almost reminded him of one of those home and garden magazines he sometimes flipped through when the studio was slow. All the furniture looked, and  _ felt _ , expensive, from intricately-carved wood on the chair arms, to the ornate rug spread out under him, larger even than his own bedroom back at the Home. 

His curiosity took him from the living room gradually into the kitchen. He walked slowly, unhurried, letting his fingers glide over polished countertops and smooth metals, over the faucet of the sink and the refrigerator alike. Everything was... _ beautiful _ . As if they’d never quite left the Citadel, and this house was simply another part of the castle. An extension of it, of the same royalty and money and pampered lifestyle that felt to him like a make-believe world. A fairy-tale of kings, queens, princesses. Princes….

“Find anything to drink?”

Prompto whirled away from the cabinet of ornate dishes as if afraid he’d be accused of trying to steal them. But Gladio, who was padding barefoot across the tiles toward him, appeared to be thinking of no such thing. In fact, the way he tugged teasingly at the belt holding together the edges of his bathrobes, it seemed his mind had never quite left its previous track. 

The earthy scents of soap and something else embraced Prompto as eagerly as Gladio’s hands. Broad shoulders blocked out the rest of the view, caught and held his attention, and he sucked in a breath as he was backed up against the polished counters he’d been admiring mere moments before. 

_ He’s just showered _ , he thought dully, fingers gliding their way up the length of cool silk.  _ He’s so close, if I just _ …. Gladio didn’t stop him from slipping the length of belt out of his grasp. He didn’t look away, merely kept his eyes locked on bright blues while Prompto carefully pulled and loosened, and finally undid his robes. He smiled as the fabric, caught between pale fingers, slid down over his skin, revealing dark lines of ink trailing down even further than Prompto had yet seen. 

The blond swallowed at the sight. Sure, Gladio had sent him photos, but  _ nothing _ compared to seeing his flesh in the, well,  _ flesh.  _ Tattoos guided his gaze down over that sculpted chest, across washboard abs, down between chiseled hips where his cock hung heavy with interest right before his eyes. “ _ All for me? _ ” he whispered in awe, repeating Gladio’s own words of promise. 

“You bet, sunshine,” Gladio confirmed, and swooped in to capture his mouth again. 

He didn’t remember walking. His feet left the floor at the same time as his shirt came undone, and after that Gladio was the one in control. Prompto gripped his naked shoulders, used his legs around Gladio's waist to help balance his weight. By the time they'd reached the stairs he was once again breathless from their kiss, and ground his hard length against solid abs all the way up. 

They reached Gladio's bedroom at the end of a carpeted hall. The door swung open, and the next thing Prompto knew he was being dropped onto a mattress so soft he nearly came right then and there. A thick comforter, dark like the color of Gladio's Crownsguard uniform, enveloped him, dragged him down into its cloud-like embrace. Until he wished he was already naked just to feel the expensive fabrics directly against his skin. 

"Been dreamin' about this since the day I met you, Prom. You have no idea how bad I've wanted to get you in my bed like this." 

Gladio half growled, half hummed, the sound like a motor revving through Prompto's chest. "Me, too. I, um. I've thought about it. A lot. How I wanna do this." 

"Tell me, baby." Gladio sank one knee into the foot of the bed, then the other, climbing up until he was hovering just far enough above him to make Prompto squirm. 

"L-like this. I want you to, um…." 

When he trailed off, Gladio chuckled. He must have seen it in his face. In the way his freckles popped of embarrassment against his burning cheeks, and known there was so much left to coax from him. "You mean this?" he teased, rolling his hips forward, his bare cock pressing to the inside of Prompto's spread thigh. "Or… _ this?"  _

Maybe Prompto gasped. Maybe he swore. Either way, Gladio rubbed his fingers down again over the bulge straining in the front of his new pants, and Prompto nearly lifted off the bed. 

"I'm gonna take care of this for you first. Sound good, babe?" A nod, nervous but not unsure. Gladio smirked. "Good. Gimme a hand with these jeans, they're tight as sin." 

It took a bit of effort, but as Gladio finally tugged the fabric down over his hips, Prompto felt his cock release into the cool air of the bedroom. Followed almost dizzyingly close by warm, thick fingers, and at last, with a wink, Gladio's mouth. 

If Prompto thought the fireworks on the balcony of the Citadel or the shower of kisses in the kitchen had been amazing,  _ this  _ was a whole new level of breathtaking. Gladio's lips were  _ hot,  _ his tongue slick and pliant and  _ oh-so _ skilled at undoing him more and more by the second. He moved down Prompto's cock, then back up. Swirled the tip of his tongue around the head once, enough to force an unbidden moan out of him, then back down again to suckle at the base. Over and over, growing faster with each pass until his head was bobbing steadily between thighs that trembled like timber in a storm. It was all Prompto could do to clench his fingers around  _ something _ \- the bed sheets, dark hair - and let Gladio's mouth rock him right to the edge and beyond. 

He didn't manage to give any warning before his orgasm hit him, but maybe Gladio could sense it anyway. Lips locked tight into place, and those deep, honeyed eyes watched him at half mast as he shuddered and came, spilling over into the hot cavern of Gladio's throat. The few seconds after were a daze. Prompto felt heavy, heavier than when he jerked off himself, and too dull witted to do anything but hum and smile. That perfect warmth left him, but it was alright. He was comfortable, cozy, even if he was still trying to catch his breath. 

"Six, you're cute." From somewhere near his hips, Gladio chuckled again. "It felt that good?" 

"So good," Prompto nodded dreamily. 

"Heh. You cool to keep going?" 

" _ Mmm.  _ Don't stop." 

He was kissed, surprised by the unfamiliar taste on Gladio's lips, and then the larger man was climbing back off the bed. Nearby, a drawer opened and shut, then his weight was back with a few new additions. 

"Let's get you out of the rest of these clothes, hm, baby?" 

Naked, skin electrified and simmering eyes locked on Gladio, Prompto helped him with the next steps. He laid back in the pillows and spread his legs apart. Offered his hand for Gladio to pour a cool, clear liquid into his palm, and obediently rubbed it on the tight muscles clenched around his hole. This…should have been embarrassing. It probably should have made him flush with shame from his head to his toes. But somehow, the way Gladio was watching him, the way he was stroking his own cock in sympathy with the show Prompto was putting on, the only thing he felt was  _ wanted.  _

"Have you…done this before?" Gladio asked eventually, a telltale hitch in his breath belying his impatience. Prompto offered him a shy smile. 

"Once," he admitted. The first finger slipped inside his opening as he spoke, and his voice and heartbeat quickened. "By myself. Last week. I was thinking about you." 

" _ Gods."  _

"Gladio. Can you do it with me?" 

Instantly he was moving, back to take up his position slotted between long, thin legs. His eyes took in the sight -- Prompto spread out beneath him, one finger already buried to the knuckle in his ass -- and he groaned. "Fuck," he swore, and wet his own fingers with the slick. "You’re so fucking perfect, Prom." 

The praise was lost to the sound of his own gasp. One of Gladio’s large fingers had pressed to his entrance, paused briefly, and pushed deep inside of him in a single move. It was bigger than his own digit, and moved more rapidly, twisting and curling against his walls with dual purpose. Prompto removed his own hand, instead clasping it around the pillow next to his face to let Gladio take control. 

But one, two, even three fingers by the time Gladio had worked them inside weren't quite enough. Prompto wanted both of them to experience this. He wanted Gladio to feel this pleasure, this same light-headed daze that had his breath ebbing and flowing like a rolling tide. He wanted to feel it  _ together _ . 

With soft fingers brushing his cheek, Gladio moved easily for him. Right up between his thighs, the weight of his body pressing Prompto deeper into the mattress. Wiping his hand on the sheets, he instead gripped Prompto around the back of the knee, spread his legs open further to accommodate until he could easily lower himself into place. The length of his hard cock ground down into the slick cleft of Prompto's ass, and the blond shivered with anticipation. 

"You good?" Gladio asked once. There was a rustling near Gladio’s leg, the snap of a condom being rolled into place one-handed. Then dark amber eyes locked with his, searching for an answer even as Prompto nodded. "Tell me if it's too much, yeah?" 

"S'okay. I trust you." 

"Prom…." 

There was something else there, something that hung unsaid from Gladio's lips. Something soft in his eyes, in the way he very gently pushed the tip of his cock into tight muscles. Something in his breath, light as a prayer as he let his weight and the work his fingers had done to prepare the way allowed him to sink into the hot body under him. Prompto gasped, then sucked in a sharp breath. His head dropped heavily into the pillows. Gladio was  _ big.  _ But more importantly, he felt  _ so good,  _ hard and thick and unyielding inside him. A constant, a focal point as the room spun and he was forced to cling to inked shoulders for fear of losing his hold on reality.

That weight sat deep in him for a long moment. Slowly, carefully drew back out to the pace of Gladio's labored groans, until the stretch was almost too much to bear. Back in again, even deeper than before, to force the air from both of their lungs with the pressure of it. Over and over, Gladio's hips picking up speed. Prompto hugged close to him, wrapped his legs around any and every part of his large body he could, and rode the waves of pleasure. There was some pain, too, but it was out of the edges of his consciousness, a distant thought so overwhelmed by the rhythmic rocking, thrusting, and explosions of intense sensation. Before he knew it, he was rolling up on instinct to meet Gladio's hips each time, desperate for more and more of that perfect touch. 

" _ Six…! Fu…. Prom, babe. I'm not…gonna last like this."  _ Against the rim of his ear, Gladio's voice was gravel. "I gotta move." 

Prompto didn't understand. Not until the weight above him was shifting, flipping them both sideways and the room turned on its head. Suddenly, Prompto was on top, still full with Gladio's hardness inside him and hands splayed on firm abs for balance. 

_ Oh,  _ he thought dimly, lifting a few experimental inches off of Gladio's lap. He dropped back down to a burst of white light across his vision.  _ Oh, this is…! _

"Just like that," came the strained but encouraging voice from below. Gladio had his eyes closed, his knuckles white where his fingers gripped pale thighs. "Not too fast, baby." 

He couldn't have gone much faster if he'd wanted. Each slow roll of his hips, each time the cock inside him slammed up into his walls, his mind reeled.  _ Too good, it's too good! _ Already his own cock had grown hard again between his thighs. It leaked more and more onto Gladio's stomach with each pass, begging for attention and already so close to a second climax. All it would take, he gasped, was one stroke, maybe two.  _ So close, so good…! _

Gladio was watching him as, with a shaky hand, Prompto reached down to grab himself. His pace never faltered. He rocked back, rocked forward, bit down on his lip. Again, slamming harder, deeper, more desperately, his breath coming in shallow pants. Until, on the third pass, his body clenched around hard flesh and he cried out, his second orgasm hitting him even harder than the first. Ropes of white shot out from between his fingers to splash across Gladio's stomach, his abs, the dark lines decorating his chest. And as Prompto swooned forward to catch his breath, Gladio found his second wind. 

Fingers held his tight, intimately, while that powerful body pounded up into him with unbelievable force. Any air left in him was pushed out as a series of wavering moans, his body too overheated, too limp to match the pace. Gladio fucked up into him relentlessly, chasing the tail of his own orgasm until, half-growling, his hips rose off the bed for a suspended heartbeat. Prompto felt nails dig into the mounds of his ass, and then they were both falling, tumbling back down onto the mattress in a heap of sweat-slick limbs. 

For a long while, neither moved. Then, gradually, fingers began to stroke their way up Prompto's back. Up over his shoulders, the nape of his neck, to sink into the forest of blond hair. Beneath him, Gladio hummed. Then chuckled. Then turned to press a kiss to his cheek. 

"Let's get cleaned up," he said softly, voice no more than a heavy whisper in his ear. "Come on." 

Groggily, Prompto allowed himself to be lifted aside. The heat slipping out of him left behind a strange emptiness, one that stayed with him even as Gladio led him across the carpeted floor to a simple bathroom shared with the main hall. There, Prompto was kissed, and hugged, and kissed again, distractions to take his mind off the wet rag Gladio used to wipe between his legs. Then Gladio cleaned himself off, too, much to Prompto's amusement. He leaned against the sink, naked but not bothering with shame, and smiled while he watched large fingers stroke over that impressive cock. 

Still smiling, he let the strong arm around his waist guide him first back to the bedroom, then under the sheets. There was something…important tugging at the back of his mind. Something he was forgetting, probably, but he was too eager to settle into Gladio's arms. Whatever it was, it could wait. Just while he rested for a little while, Prompto thought, and yawned into the curve of Gladio's shoulder. Just long enough to close his eyes, and….

Steady snores tickled the hairs at the back of his neck, but that wasn't what had woken him. Prompto blinked bleary eyes in the dark of the unfamiliar room. He felt the sheets, the pillows, Gladio's arm slung heavily over his waist - what should have been a perfect moment to drift off back to sleep, yet something had him inexplicably on edge. 

_ Ther _ e. On the floor, next to his jeans, a flashing light. Insistent as it blinked in an almost urgent pattern. Was that his phone? 

Careful not to wake the sleeping giant snoring against his back, Prompto crept from the bed and knelt down next to the phone in question. Ignored the dull ache in his lower back, and swiped open the screen to see (he rubbed his eyes) fifteen missed calls and texts. From Aranea. His blood ran cold before he even had to open the chat.

_ [Where are you?] _

_ [Kid it's getting late you okay?] _

_ [Seriously get your ass back here it's almost curfew] _

_ [The fuck are you doing?! Eos to shrimpy!] _

_ [Hey] _

_ [Loqi the Squat just came by looking for you] _

_ [You're in deep shit here, lay low somewhere tonight] _

_ [I can't keep covering for you, he's getting suspicious] _

_ [Prom] _

_ [Please] _

_ [Tell me you're safe] _

Panic flooded his system. Suddenly he was wide awake, his heart racing with the knowledge of how badly he'd fucked up. Curfew! Of course! Had he really been so focused on getting in Gladio's pants that he'd completely forgotten about the number one rule of the Home? And of all the bad timing, he'd managed to pull off this stunt when Loqi Tummelt was already out for blood. 

"Shit," he swore. It was already two a.m. He checked the chat window. Aranea had sent those messages hours ago, so it was too late to convince anyone he'd just been in the bathroom the whole time. Maybe, if he snuck back in quietly before sun up, he could at least pretend he'd only missed curfew by a hair.

Mind made up, he was already tugging his pants up when Gladio stirred from the bed. 

"...Babe? Prom?" The mattress groaned as he rolled to the edge, and switched on a lamp on the nightstand. "What's going on?" 

Blue eyes met his for a fleeting moment, then fell away again. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was so late. I…." He paused, wringing the material of his new shirt between his hands. "I've got to go." 

"Go? Right now?" 

"I'm sorry." 

Neither spoke for a heavy moment. Prompto pulled on his shirt, ran his fingers back through his hair, while Gladio watched him with a strange expression on his face. At last, he sighed. "I guess I was hoping I could make you breakfast in the morning. If, uh, you're worried about my dad or something, he won't be back until--"

"Gladio, it's not…. I  _ want  _ to stay, believe me. I just…." He smiled weakly, drawn into the open space between Gladio's thighs to cup his face in his hands. "I promise I'll call you tomorrow. I'm gonna work this out, somehow." 

Gladio said nothing, but held him close when he leaned down for a kiss. Their lips broke apart slowly, reluctantly, and Prompto felt the weight of it in his chest as he turned to go. 

"Prompto. I love you." 

Fingers froze inches above the handle of the door. Hot tears formed to sting at the backs of his eyes. "...What?" 

"When can I see you again?" 

Honeyed eyes watched him from the bed. Sad, almost, but determined, as well. Prompto swallowed the emotion that had hardened into a lump in his throat. "Soon. I promise, Gladio." 

And then he slipped through the door, letting urgency carry him out of the beautiful home back onto the street, where a taxi across town was just a desperate wave away. 


	11. The Spell Will Be Broken

_ Shit, shit, shit.  _ This was bad. The lights in the front office of the Home were still on, which meant there was a chance Loqi was up, too. Prompto crouched further into the bushes at the curb and shifted his gaze to the fire escape.

Tempting, but likely a dead end. Those stairs were ancient, and besides, there would be no way in through the emergency doors from the outside.  _ Think, Argentum! There's got to be another way. _

Aranea still hadn't read any of his messages, so he had to assume she was either asleep, drunk, or both. No one else he knew inside had a phone. With no one to contact for help on the inside, that left the windows on the first floor. With any luck, if even just one of them was unlocked….

He crept past the front entrance to the south side of the building. The first window he tried didn't budge. The second, dark behind a thick curtain, was shut tight, as well. On the third try, he was surprised to find that when he experimentally lifted the base of the frame, the panes easily raised up half an inch for him. He paused, sucked in a silent breath, and gave the window another push. 

One sneaker was through, then the other. He positioned himself on the still until he could slide the rest of the way into the opening. The second his feet landed on the other side, he turned back around to catch the pane before it could slam shut behind him. Then, tiptoeing through the dark, he took his best guess as to where he'd ended up. 

This was most likely one of the storage rooms used to hold busted furniture no one had ever bothered to fix. Not many units on the first floor housed residents, so Prompto relaxed the tension he'd been carrying in his shoulders. He was unlikely to run into anyone here. For once, it seemed luck was on his side.

He found the door by following the glint of light from the hallway glowing beneath it. That, too, was unlocked, and soon enough he was making his way as silently as he could to the stairwell that led closest to his own bedroom. 

_ So far, so good, _ he reassured himself. Panic still had him on edge, ready to bolt at the first sign of footsteps or shadows up ahead. But the path remained fortuitously clear. Not a soul seemed to be awake once he reached the fourth floor, either, no one on patrol or looking for curfew breakers like him. It was a relief. By the time he reached his door, key in hand ready to open it to safety, he had almost begun to believe that he was off the hook. 

His hand faltered in the spot where his door knob  _ should _ have been. Instead, he noticed with a sinking feeling deep in his gut, the knob was about an inch out of place. The door itself was ever so slightly ajar. Beyond, unsettling shadows filled his bedroom. Had Aranea been the one to leave it open? Had Loqi broken in to search inside? No doubt he had some kind of master key, one that would let him into any room at any time. 

That thought did nothing to settle the dread in his stomach. 

Holding his breath, Prompto gently toed open the door and stepped into the darkness. He pressed himself to the wall, not taking his eyes off the deepest depths of shadows as his fingers gripped around for the light switch. 

Too late. The lamp on the desk switched on faster, carrying the room into sudden and terrifying illumination. Worse than Prompto's fears, however, it wasn't Loqi who sat on the edge of his bed, one leg crossed casually over the other and lips twisted into a cruel smile, but Ardyn Izunia himself. The owner of the Home, the one who set the rules and reminded them all every chance he got that they'd be on the streets if it weren't for him. The man who, with his piercing yellow eyes full of scheming, had always given Prompto the creeps in every sense of the word. 

Now, unmoving except for a twitch in that smile, Ardyn played his first hand. "Well, there he is. Just where have you been all night, pet? You had me worried sick."

_ Pet?  _ Prompto shrank back against the wall as small as he physically could. "M-Mr. Izunia, sir. I know it's after curfew. I w-was actually doing this thing for work, taking photos at a party, a-and, um, the event kinda went later than I expected, and…." 

He was babbling, stalling for time, and Ardyn clearly wasn't buying it. "Is that so?" he asked, voice flat with sarcasm. "Surely you don't expect me to believe your tired excuses every time?" 

"It's true! I can prove it, just give me a se-" His fingers reached on instinct for the camera strap around his neck. The camera he always carried with him everywhere he went, his only treasure in this whole world. And his heart sank when he found it wasn't there. 

_ Oh, gods. Where did I…? Could it be at the Citadel? Did I set it down somewhere and…?  _

Mouth falling open, eyes going round as dinner plates, he looked up at Ardyn as if to explain. Yet anything he might have said refused to form into words on his tongue. 

" _ Tsk.  _ I'm disappointed in you, Argentum. Do you not remember the offer I so generously extended?" He was on his feet now, moving closer at an unhurried pace. There was no need to rush: a predator knew when its prey was not going to run. Almost politely, Ardyn reached past him to shut - and lock - the door, before boxing him in with his larger body against it. "Answer my question." 

Fear, and Ardyn's hand on his shoulder, had Prompto shaking down to his knees. "I-I don't know, I'm sorry." 

"You had the choice to work for  _ me, _ as many of your peers here do. I offered you a chance to earn your keep, but  _ you--" _ Sneering, he pinched the collar of Prompto's shirt, testing the feel of the nice fabric as if to prove something to himself. " _ You  _ decided to sell yourself on your own. Taking  _ my  _ customers and  _ my  _ cut." 

"W-what do you…?" 

"I don't appreciate competition, boy, especially right under my nose. Don't try to deny it. You think I'd believe a rat like you could afford clothes like these? Or that phone in your pocket? According to Loqi, you haven't even been keeping up with rent, either, and yet somehow all of these nice things are falling into your open lap." 

"Please," Prompto pleaded, trying and failing to break away from Ardyn's grip. "It's not like that at all!" 

"I’m afraid you are a terrible liar." The fingers pinching his collar tugged hard. One button, two snapped off as his shirt was pulled open, revealing telltale marks on pale, freckled skin. Marks Gladio’s eager mouth had made there, only hours before when the world hadn't yet started falling apart. In any other circumstance, Prompto would have blushed at the sight of them, touched them gently and smiled at the memory of the lips that had put them there. But now, as Ardyn ran a thumb over the darkest of the bruises, he could only see them as his doom. 

"Damaged property. Shame. Normally I would charge extra for these, you know. Most customers aren't interested in used goods, you see. They expect the  _ illusion _ of getting to break you in for themselves each and every time. Well," Ardyn mused. "Since the one who did this to you hasn't yet paid me a single gil, I'd say he owes about six months worth of your rent to make up for this. Wouldn't you agree, pet?" 

"N-no! You're wrong! He's...um. He's my…," Prompto started through a tint of humiliation on his cheeks. "I-it isn't what you think, I swear it." 

"Nevertheless," came the mocking tone in answer. "So long as you have outstanding debts, you belong to me. And until  _ someone _ manages to square away your payments,  _ well.  _ I fear we're going to have to test your loyalty."

His smile never faltered as he snatched up both of Prompto's wrists, and began reaching for his belt.


	12. The Glass Slipper

Gladio had been lying awake in bed since Prompto left. His mind wouldn't let him fall back asleep, preferring instead to churn over and over with all the possibilities of what had gone wrong. 

_ Had _ things gone wrong, though? It felt so sudden, Prompto practically bolting in the middle of the night after what couldn't have been a more perfect evening. Meeting at the gala like something out of a movie, kissing under the fireworks. The  _ sex _ , which had cemented in Gladio's mind that everything he felt for Prompto was realer than real. He  _ loved _ him. He'd blurted it out loud, even, despite all the advice Ignis had given him on the topic, hoping that saying those three words would be enough to make Prom stay. 

But, he had promised to call him, right? Did that mean he felt the same way, or…?

For the dozenth time in the last hour, Gladio let out a groan in the emptiness of his bedroom. All this overthinking was getting him nowhere. Either he could trust that Prompto wasn't gone for good, or he could get up and do something about it himself. What, exactly, he didn't yet know, of course. He supposed he could go see Prompto in person. Not that he knew where he lived, or even in what part of town, but there was always the studio, right? 

But what if he didn't want to see him anymore? Wouldn't showing up uninvited make him a stalker? Unless, of course, Prompto had meant what he said and….

No good. His thoughts were spiraling again, just like they had been for the last few hours, and still he'd gotten his head no further around the bend. At this rate, he likely wasn't going to get any sleep at all.

A sharp buzzing sound from his nightstand caught his attention. His phone, still plugged into its charger, blinked twice to let him know he had a new notification. Gladio dared to get his hopes up at the sight. He wasted no time snatching it up, where sure enough a pop-up window on his screen informed him the notification was from Prompto. 

And to his instant relief, he saw it was a  _ photo _ . 

Prompto couldn't be mad if he was sending him pics, right? 

With newfound excitement, Gladio settled back into the pillows and clicked to open the message, expecting maybe a selfie, or something of them together that Prom had secretly captured during the evening. But instead, he was greeted with more than he'd bargained for.

It was a nude, or at least practically could be. Prompto was half naked in the center of the shot, bare down to a pair of underwear clinging to his hips, and his arms raised above his head.  _ No _ , Gladio realized, narrowing his eyes.  _ Tied _ above his head. There was something in his mouth, too, rust-colored fabric like a scarf shoved between his lips. And though he was looking away from the camera, it was clear he wore a pained expression. 

The photo held none of the style, the subtlety of Prompto's usual photos. As if it had been taken by someone else. But…who? And  _ when?  _

Under the photo, dots appeared while someone on the other end was typing. 

_ [Like what you see?]  _ the text read across his screen, just as Gladio's vision went red. [ _ I'm fairly certain you do. Of course, you must know by now that this particular piece of merchandise comes at quite a high price.] _

"Who the  _ fuck?!" _ Gladio growled aloud at his phone. 

The messages continued.  _ [It seems you've been getting a discount by cutting out the middleman. But I have ways of getting what is owed to me.]  _

His thumbs slammed against the screen in response.  _ [ _ **_WHO ARE YOU_ ** _ ]  _

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Gladio hit the call button instead. It rang. And rang. Each space between felt like hours. His heart was thudding with anger, panic, confusion. Someone had Prompto. Someone was  _ hurting  _ Prompto. It didn't matter who they were, Gladio was going to  _ tear them apart with his bare hands. _

_ [Really,] _ came a new message in the chat.  _ [No manners at all. And here I'd hoped we could have a civil conversation. Looks like this boy is going to have to pay the price all on his own.]  _

_ [Oh, well. At least I tried.] _

The chat disappeared. He'd been blocked. He'd been  _ fucking blocked!  _ The phone quaked in his fist as he shook with rage, tempted to hurl the thing right across the room. But that would only make things worse. This phone was the only link he had to Prompto, and the only thing that might help him now. 

Bolting to his feet, Gladio dialed the second number in his contacts, and waited until a very groggy voice on the other end finally picked up. 

"...Gladio, this had better be bloody important. It's four in the morning and Noctis was up all night. I  _ really _ don't have the energy to--"

"Iggy, shut up and listen for a sec. Prompto's in trouble." 

"Prompto…? Oh, that young man you've been seeing? What sort of trouble is he--?" 

"Someone's got him, Igs. I don't know who, or where, but.  _ Fuck!" _ He stopped pacing his room long enough to tear at his hair in frustration. "We gotta help him! It's because of me, I somehow got him into this mess, I can feel it." 

"Calm down," Ignis' voice replied, fully alert and deadly serious now. "Try to think clearly. Do you know where he is now?" 

Panic clawed at his throat, making it difficult to speak without choking up. "Uh, his place, I guess? He was here, with me, then he left a few hours ago. Suddenly, too. I should've known something was wrong." 

"No time to blame yourself. Listen --  _ ah, darling, did I wake you? No, it's Gladio, there's been an emergency. No, it isn't about your father, I -- N-Noctis..!"  _

"- _ -'s fine, Specs _ ,  _ just gimme the _ \--  _ Gladio!  _ What's going on? Did something happen to Iris?" 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and resumed pacing. "No. It's Prompto. I don't have time to explain, can you two just get over here? I'm gonna need backup." 

"Y-yeah, dude, of course. We'll be right there. ... _ Yes, we are so going. Don't give me that look, that's _ my _ job. Igs, w-wait--!"  _

"We're on the way, but you need to try and think. Do you have any clues as to where he might be?" 

"I'll work on it, just get here as fast as you can." Hanging up, he immediately pulled on his jeans and a jacket from the back of the chair by his desk. It wouldn't matter much, he didn't even know where they were going, but he knew he couldn't just sit here and wait. He pocketed his phone, and grabbed the stick off the belt of his Crownsguard uniform. They weren't quite as lethal as the weapons used in the training hall, but they were still not commissioned for off-duty carry. In that moment, he couldn't have cared less. 

The rest of the house was still silent as he made his way down the hall and the front stairs. Ignis and Noct would still be about fifteen minutes away, at best. There had to be something useful he could do while he waited, something to help Prompto in the meantime. Fifteen minutes was a long time, and there was no telling what the psychopath who'd tied him up might already be doing.  _ Gods...dammit!  _ He slammed his fist against the bannister, sending it shuddering all the way back upstairs. Why had he let Prompto walk out like that?! If only he'd tried to stop him, convinced him somehow to stay, then maybe he'd be safe. 

No, Iggy was right. That kind of talk wouldn't help anyone, not now. He had to take action. 

First step, Cor Leonis. He was Prompto's boss, after all, he must have some kind of address for him. But even as Gladio pulled out his phone again, he realized the only number he knew was the line to the studio. Leonis wouldn't be in until opening, and by then it would be too late. 

His father, then. If Clarus wasn't too drunk, he could get in touch with Cor for him. Or even rally the Guard, search door to door all over town in a sweep if they had to. Whatever it took, he was willing to go to the ends of Lucis and back if it meant--

Gladio froze. Suddenly, rooted in his tracks. While pacing, he'd turned toward the coffee table in the living room, and saw what was sitting on it, like a holy grail hiding in plain sight. 

_ Prompto's camera. _

Six, he must have left it by accident! Gladio rushed to grab it, hardly able to believe his luck. If he was right, and Prompto was really as obsessed with this thing as he'd seemed, then there was a chance the photos on its memory card could lead him right to his doorstep. He just had to figure out….

There! It was on, and he was quickly scanning backwards through pictures of the fireworks, the Citadel, the gala, famous faces on a red carpet and then….  _ Yes,  _ there was the park outside Lionheart Studio, the bus stop he recognized from nearby. Shots of the street through a window, sunsets, flowers, random puppies on the sidewalk and then….

_ Bingo.  _

The sign in the upper corner of the photo was out of focus, blurry, but he could make out enough to read its name.  _ Somnus Memorial Home for Wayward Youths _ . Whatever the fuck that meant, Gladio scoffed. But it was a clue, and that was one more piece of the puzzle than he'd had before. 

"I'm coming to save you, baby," he said, gripping the camera tight. "Hold out just a little longer." 


	13. No Matter How Your Heart is Grieving

Prompto had fallen silent. Not because he'd given up, or because he was too terrified of what the monster sitting next to him, boots propped up on his desk, was planning to do next, but because he had a sense of self-preservation. Ardyn's threats had made it clear that if he tried to speak up, or call for help, he'd fill his mouth with more than just a scarf. 

So he obeyed, for now. What choice did he really have? He'd heard the rumors, they all had, about the kind of things Ardyn did behind the facade of "generous benefactor" to the lost kids of Insomnia. How he took them in, offered them work, and then abandoned them to the dark streets again once they'd worn out their usefulness. For those like Prompto, who had found a legitimate way to earn a living without resorting to  _ other _ means, he must have been on Àrdyn's radar for a long time. 

The timing was no mere coincidence, then. His new job with Cor, the sudden pressure from Loqi…. Ardyn had been  _ planning  _ this. He'd set a trap, and Prompto had stumbled right into it. It didn't matter that he was none of the things Ardyn said he was - so long as Gladio was being used against him, Ardyn would have the upper hand. 

"Seems like ‘lover boy’ has given up on you." There was a smile on those crooked lips, directed not at Prompto but at the screen of his phone twirling in Ardyn's hand. "How tragic. True love can be such a disappointment, wouldn't you agree?" 

Prompto merely glared in smouldering silence. 

"You know, you shouldn't take it personally. 'The clever consumer never overpays' - it's simply good business sense. Everything has a value," Ardyn explained, even as he set the phone carefully face down and swung his legs off the desk. "That includes all of us." 

It wasn't true. Prompto knew it, deep down, just like he knew Ardyn was toying with him now. He probably hadn't even sent that photo to Gladio, it was just a bluff to scare him, to control him. But it wasn't going to work. He wouldn't let it.

At the foot of the bed now, Ardyn was smiling at him again. Yellow eyes prickled his skin where they traveled over it, not bothering with subtlety or tact.  _ Appraising  _ him, inch by inch, very much like a purveyor might inspect his newest goods. "At any rate, this means we'll need to find another way for you to start repaying your debts, won't we? I've been known to be a somewhat forgiving man when the mood takes me, and, well, you're in luck." 

He moved around to the side of the bed, close enough now to reach out and touch if he wanted. On instinct, Prompto shrank away. "I'm willing to accept the money you owe me in credit.  _ Favors _ , if you will. I think you'll find that offer quite... _ generous _ ." 

There was nowhere left to squirm. A large hand, weirdly cool and clammy against his skin, started at his knee and slid up the inside of his bare thigh. Prompto sobbed around the scarf in his mouth, shivered and kicked his legs trying to push himself further away. But it was useless, Ardyn was on him within seconds, his weight bearing down to pin him bodily to the hard mattress below. A hand on his chest forced air from his lungs, another fisted around blond hair to tug his head up and back. "Make this easy on yourself, pet," that hated voice crooned against the side of his neck. "You'll need to get used to it sooner or later." 

Part in panic, part in desperation, Prompto kicked out hard with the only foot he had free. It caught not in Ardyn's groin where he'd been instinctively aiming, but rather his calf where he kneeled on the mattress. The momentum of it caught him off guard, and his entire leg slipped out from under him. With a grunt he collapsed onto Prompto's frame, head bouncing up just as Prompto's elbow came swinging down to meet it. 

There was a thud, and a groan. Ardyn threw a hand to his temple where he'd been hit, and reared back both in surprise and fury. "You ungrateful little--" 

He reached out in an attempt to wrestle Prompto's legs underneath him again, but the blond, fueled by adrenaline, was quicker. He kicked out a second time, this time catching Ardyn in the wrist to the sound of a sickening crack.

" _ Augh _ !" Hallowed cheeks flared red. Ardyn snapped his arm back against his chest, cradling it there as pain and anger blossomed all over his features. "You’re only making this worse for yourself! _ "  _

This was his chance! With no time to think, Prompto spat the makeshift rag out of his mouth. His voice sounded strained, shakey, but he screamed as loud as his lungs would allow. More than loud enough, he knew, to breach the thin walls of the room, to spill into the hallway. He didn't stop screaming even when Ardyn pinned him down again, his good hand clawing furiously at his throat. 

"You'll learn," he growled. "Just like all the others have." 

Those fingers tightened, and Prompto's voice faltered as his eyes went wide. 

"You'll regret this, I'll make certain of it. When I'm through with you, you'll wish you'd never tried to cross me." 

Tighter, tighter. He was trying to squeeze the life right out of him. Prompto shuddered silently as the edges of his vision started to blur.

"And  _ then, _ when you think you can't be anymore broken, I'll toss this body of yours to my friends on the streets. Compared to them,  _ I'm _ as gentle as a breeze!" 

Lights swam before Prompto's eyes, his lungs burned for lack of air. Ardyn was too strong, the fingers around his throat determined to bruise him, to  _ crush _ him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. His limbs flailed uselessly under the larger man's weight. If he didn't get away soon...he was going to…. 

"Rrrr- _ raah!"  _

A primal cry filled the air, neither Prompto not Ardyn but something far more frightening on the other side of the bedroom door. It was followed by a massive crash, one which sent chips of wood splintering around the room with the force of it, and then the half-shattered door slammed open on quivering hinges. 

Prompto didn't have to wait to see who or what it was. Within seconds, an old, metal chair was arcing through the space above him, colliding with perfect aim to send Ardyn toppling backwards. He collapsed like the ragdoll off the foot of the bed, his body hitting the floor hard enough to shake the frame - and the last of Prompto's nerves with it. 

"Fuckin'  _ Six _ , kid!" Aranea appeared in his line of sight, her eyes as white as her sleep shirt as she quickly examined him. "How did--? What the fuck did he--?" She shook her head. "Nevermind. Time to go." 

He was still gasping in lungfuls of air by the time she'd gotten the belt loose from around his wrists. An experimental squeeze to his biceps, his elbow, to get the blood flowing again, then she was helping him up. "Can you walk?" 

"Y-yeah," he answered, though his voice was raw in his throat. "I think so." 

"C'mon then. Who knows how long 'til he wakes up aga--  _ S-shit! _ " 

She hadn't seen the blow coming, nor could she get out of the way in time. Reflexes had her throwing up her arm to block Ardyn's fist, but the sudden momentum still sent her sprawling away from Prompto's side. She hit the desk, slumping to her knees even as Ardyn wheeled on her again. 

Blood trickled down his face, so dark in the shadows it appeared nearly black. Eyes fixed on Aranea, he reached up to touch his fingertips to the source of the gash. Drew them, stained with blood, to his own lips, and smiled as he licked them clean. "If it isn't Highwind. Always the brute, rarely the hero. I should have thrown you out on the streets years ago." 

"Then who'd you get to mop up all your messes, huh?" She found her balance slowly, eyes fierce with anger as she sized him up. "Let Prompto walk away, and we can pretend none of this ever happened." 

"I'm afraid I can't do that." 

"I won't let you hurt him." 

"How noble for a street rat-turned mercenary. But, alas, I must decline."

"Suit yourself, asshole." Aranea never had to move. It was Prompto who, taking the opening she'd left for him, swung Ardyn's own belt around to tighten against his throat. Prompto pressed against his back, pulled the dark leather as hard as he could in both directions, and held on while Ardyn struggled to throw him off. 

_ That _ was Aranea's cue to launch back into action. A knee to the gut, followed by her elbow cracking against Ardyn's skull as he doubled over, bought them enough time. She reached for Prompto's hand, and together they raced out of the room like chocobos tearing from the starting line. Past the door, down the hall, bare feet pounding on the steps. They had to escape. They had to get out of the Home, whatever it took. From there, they could figure things out as they came, but until they were both out of Ardyn's reach, neither of them would ever be free.

Prompto was out of breath by the time they made it to the first floor and their exit came into view up ahead. Fingers squeezed his palm. Aranea cast him an encouraging look over her shoulder, just before a last burst of speed carried them to the doors. This was it! They were going to make it…!

The door opened, and Prompto found himself staring right into the barrel of a gun. 

Aranea had seen it first. Her lightning reflexes as she skidded to a halt in the hall were the only thing that kept Prompto from running straight into Ardyn. He stood, shoulders lifting and falling heavily with each labored breath, like a brick wall at the end of their tunnel. A darkness blotting out the light and their hope of escape. More blood than ever streaked his face, but his eyes…. Those stood out of the shadow with a feverish light all their own. For perhaps the first time that night, he  _ wasn't  _ smiling. 

"This way...is a dead end." The gun clicked dangerously, Ardyn's thumb weighing down the hammer. "You'll go no further than right here." 

Beside Prompto, Aranea was completely still. Not even a tremble, a twitch, her eyes fixed on the weapon slowly moving between them both. "Ardyn. Please. Don't." 

"Save it, girl. It's time you learned what happens when you bite the hand that feeds." 

"I'm not your  _ dog _ , Izunia!" To Prompto's horror, Aranea strode forward then, her body coming between him and the gun like a shield. Was she crazy?! "You can still let us go, right now, and I swear to you Aldercapt never has to know who's been the one biting  _ his  _ hand." 

"Is that meant to frighten me,  _ girl _ ? I could kill you where you stand and accomplish the same goal." His finger squeezed down on the trigger just enough to make Aranea flinch. "That's always been the plan, actually. I do at least appreciate you saving me the trouble of making it look like an accident." 

His yellow eyes flashed, and Prompto opened his mouth to scream. 


	14. The Dream That You Wish Will Come True

The sound that rang out echoed off the surrounding buildings. A high-pitch squeal, too sharp to be that of a bullet peeling from a handgun. Even Ardyn, his moment of thunder stolen, wheeled around in surprise and alarm as a polished black sports car skidded to a stop in the front lawn. 

The driver's side door opened first. Out of it came a man Prompto had never seen before, with light brown hair slicked back and a deadly expression behind razor sharp lenses. He wasted no time charging forward. Without so much as an introduction, he spun into a kick that sent Ardyn's gun flying, and finished by pinning him to the ground under one knee. 

Two other figures had emerged from the car. One, broad and unmistakably heroic, running towards them with a baton at the ready. Prompto's heart skipped a beat at the sight. Gladio! He'd come! But how…? 

There was no time to ask him. Before Prompto could open his mouth, Gladio had shoved his baton under Aranea's chin, pressed her back against the nearest wall, and was using his own body as a shield between her and Prompto. 

"W-wait! Hang on, she's--!" 

"Iggy, look out!" 

The third figure, dark hair to match his dark pajamas, raced out of the shadows. None too soon, it seemed, as Ardyn had managed to unseat the weight on top of him and was now scrambling to reach for his gun. It had slid across the porch, lodging itself against the corner of a railing post and the brick wall of the Home's facade. Prompto could see it clearly. Ardyn was going to reach it before the kid in black, and long before either Gladio or the man in glasses could have gotten into position. That left only one option.

"Prom!" Gladio shouted.

"Prompto!" Aranea growled, her voice strained. 

He ignored them both. Ardyn was close, but Prompto was faster, leaping past his outstretched arm to scoop the weapon up quick as lightning. Then he turned, and he felt the weight of the steel against his palms like the gun  _ belonged  _ there. 

Color drained from Ardyn's face behind the curtain of dried blood. The others froze, too, even Aranea who had stopped struggling against Gladio's muscles in favor of watching what he'd do next. And for good reason. Prompto looked from the face of his attacker to the barrel of the gun aimed right at him. Squeezed his hand around the handle almost experimentally, testing the give, the feel of it as an extension of himself. He'd never fired one of these things before, but suddenly, standing half naked on the porch with Ardyn paralyzed before him in fear, Prompto understood the appeal of its  _ power. _

"Hey. Sunshine," came a familiar, calming voice. "Why don't you give that thing to Noct?" 

"Yeah, I'll take it." The dark-haired kid, affecting a smile, took a step closer. Then another, his hand open, waiting. 

Again, Prompto looked down at Ardyn, right into his hard eyes, and considered all of the reasons why he should just  _ do it _ . The exploitation, the lies, the others he'd hurt in the name of ‘business’. He remembered the kid he'd seen in the dark room that day, what seemed like ages ago now. The faraway look in lifeless eyes, the way he'd sat in the shadows of his room in Ardyn's wake, left alone with demons and regrets. How many had ended up like that? How many more could be saved if Prompto ended this right here, right now? 

Swallowing, he cocked a shaky finger on the trigger of the gun. "You deserve it, you know," he said, as fresh tears stung his eyes. 

Ardyn tightened his lips into a thin line. "I do." 

"You deserve to pay for everyone you've ever hurt." 

"Yes. You're right, pet." Though still on his knees, Ardyn shifted to bring his hands up to fold together atop his head. There was no mirth in his expression, and no longer any fear. "So why do you hesitate? Go ahead. Kill me, if that helps ease your pain. But you'll learn. You'll understand how once the blood is on your hands, you will never be able to stop. You will kill, you will cheat. Until one day, you will look in the mirror and see  _ my  _ face staring back at you." His mouth curved up ever so slightly at the edges. "And I wonder if you'll hesitate to pull the trigger then, too?" 

A sob racked Prompto's frame. The gun lowered, then fell to his side, as Ardyn's words sunk in. Violence for violence. One life for many. Where did it end? And who was he to make that decision? 

Around him, the others snapped into motion. The man in glasses once more pinned Ardyn to the ground, while the kid in black reached Prompto's side and safely took the gun from his grasp. Gladio, too, loosened his grip on Aranea, and she instantly slipped out of his hold. The two elbowed each other for dominance as they raced to see who could be the first to scoop Prompto into a hug. 

In the end, it was a tie. "Well, I gotta say," Aranea sighed, shooting Gladio a hard look. "This guy's the real deal, kid. He called in the royal cavalry -  _ literally _ ." 

Blue eyes wet with tears searched that familiar, rugged face. "Gladio, I…. T-thank you, I…'m s-sorry for…." 

"Shh, baby. You're safe." 

Wrapped in the arms of the closest people he had to a family, Prompto at last let go. Tension poured out of him in the form of tears streaking down freckled cheeks. He buried his face against warm skin, clung to the arms around him and sobbed with relief and regret and the weight of all that had happened.

But it was okay. 

Finally, it was all going to be okay. 

* * *

The last of his shirts fit easily into the borrowed backpack. There was space enough left for more - he'd already packed his clothes, his watch, his charger. Everything else he owned was either in his camera bag on his shoulder, or already being worn on his back. 

Prompto supposed it was fitting, though. He was taking with him so many memories, more than enough to last a lifetime. What else did he really need from this place?

"So," Gladio said, stepping into the room from the hallway. His large frame instantly took up the remaining half of the space. "Are you gonna miss it?" 

Prompto laughed. "Are you kidding? I'll miss living down the hall from Nea, yeah. But she’ll come visit, and, well. Anyway...the Home has never really been a real  _ home _ , y'know?" 

"Even if it's under new management?" 

From the hall, Prompto could hear the voices of Ignis and Prince Noctis as the two wandered by the room. It seemed like they were discussing the best color for the wallpaper and, honestly, Prompto had to agree with Noct's argument for 'electric blue.' 

Yet even then, he shook his head. It was well past time to move on. "Cor says the new place is a lot roomier. Plus, it's close enough to work that he's gonna let me take on more hours at the studio." 

"Mmm, sounds great." 

"And…." 

"And?" 

"Well," Prompto said, smiling as he hefted up his backpack and cast Gladio a shy look. "I'll be closer to you, too." 

White teeth flashed in a grin. "That's right. What are we gonna do about that?" 

"You'll just have to come over and visit me a lot. Like, whenever I'm lonely, or need help opening a jar of pickles." 

"Do you even like pickles?" Gladio laughed. Yet he'd received the message loud and clear anyway. Gently prying Prompto's bag away to sling over his own shoulder instead, he used his free arm to pull him into a hug. "Guess we'll have lots of time to get to know each other better from now on." 

"And find out what kind of foods we both like." 

"Music, too. And games, movies…." 

"Mogflix and chill?" 

"Emphasis on the  _ chill _ ," he smirked.

Prompto couldn't resist leaning in then, pushing himself up on the toes of his worn sneakers to plant a kiss to the corner of Gladio's mouth. As he pulled back, blue eyes met soft, honeyed brown, and he winked. "It's a date." 

The lights were off with a flip of a switch. Prompto took Gladio's hand when it was offered, and they waved a cheery goodbye to Iggy and Noct, still caught up in the storm of interior decorating. Down the stairs, out the front door for the very last time, where together they paused to wait for their cab to Prompto's new home. 

It was after a few moments of unusual silence that Gladio finally cleared his throat to speak. " _ Erm _ . So, uh, this is for real, right? For  _ real _ , real?" 

"Hm?" 

"This. You, and me." A flush colored his cheeks, one that undeniably suited his handsome features well. "No more secrets, no more curfews? No more 'gotta be home by midnight or the spell wears off'?" 

"Yeah," Prompto answered. He squeezed the hand in his for emphasis. "Definitely no more of that." 

He smiled, broad and satisfied. "Good. 'Cause if I don't get another chance to sweep you off your feet, what kind of boyfriend would I be?" 

_ A damn fine one _ , Prompto thought to himself. But aloud, he simply laughed. "Who cares? It's not like we're in a fairy tale or something." 

"Oh, yeah?" Pulling him up until their foreheads pressed together, Gladio favored him with a wild grin. "Coulda fooled me, Twinkerbell." 


End file.
